Yours To Keep
by Ashkiis
Summary: Rick Grimes/Paul "Jesus" Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes/Paul "Jesus"
1. Chapter 1

**Notes:**

Hey there! Unlike my last multi-chaptered fic, this story is NOT written in its entirety yet. I'm very hesitant to post any when it's unfinished, but I figured on the night of the season 7 premiere, might as well get this thing out there!

If I end up going back and reworking a chapter, I will let you know. Hopefully that does not happen.

I tried again with the Southern accent but I know I horrendously failed, so please forgive me for that. D:

Anyway, the beginning of this story is set during season 6. The story doesn't really follow the S6 canon. It starts off sometime after the group negotiates with the Hilltop about taking down Negan and does its own thing after that.

I refer to Jesus/Paul mostly as Jesus. I wasn't sure which one he goes by more? When Rick speaks to him directly it'll be 'Paul', but otherwise 'Jesus'. If that is incorrect or whatnot, I can perhaps go back and change it? Let me know!

I hope everyone is in character enough that it's believable. Thank you for reading!

 **Chapter 1:**

Faint caresses trailed across his navel and upwards, skittering across his chest with an intimate familiarity that shouldn't have been possible. They had only been together like this a handful of times before, yet Rick felt he knew everything about the other man, and vice versa. He gazed down at his lover, taking in the sight of his bare chest and the muscles in his arm. His eyes roamed upwards and their eyes met, a simmering look shared between the two of them. And then the look in the other man's eyes turned mischievous and clever fingers pinched Rick's nipple.

"Ouch!" he yelped, jumping from the sensation but not untangling himself from the other man. "Knock it off, Paul," he scolded, but the corner of his mouth turned up to indicate he was kidding.

They were lying together in Alexandria, in a house that was still unoccupied. Despite caring for Jesus, Rick wasn't quite ready to divulge how much their relationship had progressed to his family or to the Alexandrians. Jesus was visiting with a small group from the Hilltop to exchange reports and observations. Mainly worries over Negan and the increasing activity from the violent group he led. After the meetings everyone had parted ways, with the Hilltop group occupying a guest house until they left the next morning.

Rick and Jesus had departed together with the excuse they were going to finalize some sort of defense plan together. No one was none the wiser.

Rick was pulled from his thoughts as Jesus leaned over and planted a gentle kiss next to his left nipple. His lips lingered for a moment before he began to suck, leaving another hickey along with the others that were scattered haphazardly across his pectorals. The man certainly had an obsession with marking him. Rick smiled, leaning back more firmly into the pillows and let Jesus continue to suck on his skin, ignoring the sharp pinpricks of the other man's teeth.

When Jesus had finished and resumed cuddling next to him, Rick wrapped an arm around him and breathed in the scent of his hair. It was a mixture of the usual sweaty musk every person carried with them since the apocalypse, and natural oils, but beneath it was a comforting odor of an earthy tone that reminded Rick of the woods. Oftentimes he imagined that was what Daryl would smell like if they were ever this close, but the thought brought him a colossal sense of guilt and embarrassment. He shouldn't be thinking about his family member in such a way when he was cradling another man in his arms.

Jesus seemed to know whenever the uncomfortable thoughts entered his head, for he would snuggle up closer and kiss Rick's jawline gently, as if soothing him. And it was no different from this night. After the mortifying idea popped into his brain, Rick began to wriggle with distress and Jesus leaned closer, kissing him softly. Melting into the gentle and pacifying sensations, he closed his eyes and moaned quietly.

"Rick," the other man breathed, and the soft wisp of Jesus' breath tickled at his cheek.

"Hm?" he asked, his eyes still closed.

Wet laps at his left nipple, and Rick cracked an eye open to watch as Jesus licked at the puckered flesh. As if sensing that he had Rick's attention, Jesus looked up at him, his intense gaze blazing into Rick's.

"I know you were thinking about him." A sardonic smile reached the Hilltop man's lips. "Again," he added.

Rick sputtered, looking for strong enough words to refute the accusation.

Jesus sat up to face Rick more fully, but there was no anger on his face. Rick had expected jealousy, fury, or even sadness. But instead Jesus was smiling fondly at him, the same as he always did. Before he could speak, a nimble finger was placed against his lips, followed by a butterfly soft kiss. It was a chaste peck, but it was reassuring all the same.

"I know you care about me, Rick. I'd even go so far as to claim you love me." A small laugh. "But I know you care about Daryl too. And you have long before I came into the picture."

"No, Paul, you-"

"Stop." The smile was gone now, and Rick knew it was time to shut up and listen. It wasn't often that Jesus was completely serious, and when he was, the leader of Alexandria knew someone was either in deep shit or they better zip up and pay attention.

"I would be a fool not to notice the way you look at him. It's the same way you look at me." Again, there was nothing but acceptance in the way Jesus looked at him. Perhaps even some excitement? Rick was confused, his heart beating a disjointed rhythm that he could barely handle.

"Why haven't you told him?" Jesus asked, and he shifted, the sheet pooling suggestively in his lap. Rick had to pry his gaze away from the exposed skin to focus on the other man's face.

The thought to deny, deny, deny was at the forefront of his mind. How could he admit that he cared for another _right_ in front of his lover? But the calm face in front of him was as reassuring as it always was, and the fondness in the opposite gaze was just as strong as before. "He wouldn't…understand," Rick finally croaked.

"You think he's going to treat you differently because you like men just as much as you do women?" Jesus asked, no joking in his tone. He genuinely wondered why Rick was so afraid, wasn't making fun of the way he felt. What had Rick done to deserve this gentle and compassionate soul?

Rick shrugged, forcing himself to swallow past the lump in his throat. "Not necessarily. I just think he may react differently if he knows I like _him_."

His lover nodded. "I can understand that."

The former lawman smiled weakly and cradled Jesus' face with his calloused hand. "If ya hadn't approached me first, this would'a never happened. I was barely able to ask Lori out." Saying his deceased wife's name didn't bring the same pain that it once did. Her ghost didn't haunt him as fiercely as it once had. Her memory was a fleeting ache that was quickly gone when his eyes resumed their gaze into Jesus'. Rick leaned forward and kissed Jesus, soaking up the taste of the other man's lips and tongue. "Thank god you live fearlessly," Rick sighed as their kiss ended.

"Fearlessly?" Jesus asked, and an amused smirk curled his lip. He was clearly pleased by the compliment. "Who is braver than Rick Grimes?" he purred, and he leaned down, balancing his weight on his knees.

And then the cunning mouth was teasing Rick's cock, coaxing it quickly to full hardness.

….

Jesus was gone for an entire month before he returned with an even smaller group than before. They had brought some supplies for trade and the people of Alexandria were mingling with their allies. Rick only had eyes for his lover, and as he surveyed him from atop the guard tower, he couldn't help but notice that the younger man seemed more haggard than usual. Nervously toying with his holstered Colt Python, Rick had to force himself to turn away and watch the perimeter.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't notice the creaking of the ladder indicating someone was ascending before they were already clambering up onto the platform next to him. Rick's heart nearly burst out of his chest when he saw that it was Daryl. Since his awkward post-coital conversation with Jesus, he had been even more aware of the archer. He over analyzed his interactions with Daryl, felt more awkward around him, felt that everyone was aware of how Rick felt about him.

"Hey," he grunted, leaning down to offer Daryl a hand up.

The hunter clasped his hand and accepted the assistance. Daryl muttered his own greeting and then leaned against the railing, looking down at the small group of Hilltop civilians. "Think they have any good news?" he asked.

Rick frowned, casting his own gaze down at Jesus and his companions. "Probably not."

A tiny smirk flashed across Daryl's mouth and Rick felt his heart hammer. "Yeah, probably not," the archer agreed.

Daryl fiddled in his pocket and pulled out a battered box of cigarettes. He pulled out one of the few remaining cigarettes, absently offering the box in Rick's direction. Rick shook his head and Daryl put the container back into his pocket.

Watching as Daryl took in a deep drag and then exhaled the smoke slowly, he couldn't help but fixate his gaze on the other man's mouth. Daryl was so unaware of how attractive he was. Even when smoking he was intoxicating, his lips wrapping around the end of the cigarette like he was making love to it. It just wasn't fair! With a huff, Rick spun around to once again look at the outside perimeter, taking count of the amount of walkers that were shuffling close by.

"What's wrong with ya?" Daryl mumbled, and without looking at him Rick knew that the cigarette would be dangling between his lips as he spoke.

"Jus' stressed is all," he answered quickly, resting his forearms against the railing and staring at the horizon. His brows furrowed as if he was in deep thought.

The archer didn't reply for a few seconds, but when he did, all Rick received was a grunt in response.

"What?" Rick asked, finally turning back to face the object of his desire that had been invading his every thought for the past year. Well, that is, until Jesus had arrived and started to mingle, the craving for both of the men intertwining fiercely in his mind. He hadn't cared about two people so much since…well, his children.

An arched brow greeted him. The smirk was back too. Rick felt his heart beat faster at the sight of it. "Nothin'," Daryl retorted.

He narrowed his eyes at the hunter, but in the end his glare dissolved into a fond smile. "Did ya need somethin' Mr. Dixon?" he asked, his tone teasingly exasperated.

Tan shoulders shrugged nonchalantly. "Nah," Daryl drawled.

Shaking his head, Rick waved Daryl away. "Quit distractin' me then. I gotta watch the wall."

"Whatever ya say, Mr. Grimes," Daryl answered before he turned to climb back down the ladder, giving his leader one last smirk before disappearing.

And Rick tried to ignore the way his breath caught so sharply in his chest.

….

"Negan's group has killed three more of our people."

Jesus stood at the front of the church, the grave look on his face matching the tone of his voice. The sun was setting, shining through the stained glass windows and throwing beautiful colors across the floor. Some red and yellow flecks of light fell on Jesus' chest. The Hilltop messenger paused to look in turn around the chapel, sharing a pained stare with his own community members. His gaze continued on to those he had become friends with that lived in Alexandria. Finally his eyes settled on Rick, and the leader of Alexandria tried to send all of the support he could convey in a look alone.

"Gregory demands to know your progress on a plan. He's growing increasingly anxious."

Rick stood at that, nodding at Abraham and Eugene as he passed the pew they were sitting in. Sasha gave him a grim smile of encouragement. Glenn and Maggie sat together, hands clasped tightly. Both of them stared at him with unwavering, trusting gazes. He didn't have the time to look at the rest of his family, but he could feel their support without seeking out their faces.

When he reached the front of the church he shared a quick look with Jesus. Longing and promise were entangled in their mutual gaze. But they were each professional, the joint stare lasting only seconds, knowing that they must protect their people and discuss the problem. Some things were more important than desire.

"Our lookouts have been doin' some scouting," Rick began, turning to face the congregation. His eyes automatically sought out Daryl, who was leaning against the wall, solitary as usual. The archer gave him an almost imperceptible nod. "Negan, or a group of his at least, has a compound to the northwest. About an hour from here. Thirty, maybe forty men. I think if we surprise 'em, we could take 'em in one go."

A slight murmuring arose at that, mostly from the more docile members of Alexandria. To his distaste, almost the entire town was at the meeting, cramming the benches full and causing others to stand.

"We haven't gotten far enough to plan out the attack, but we're gettin' there."

The low voices grew in strength, and Rick noticed that one man from the Hilltop in particular was getting louder. He overheard a harshly spat, "Gave 'em practically everythin' we 'ad and they spent a month playin' spy?"

Normally he might have gone into attack mode merely for the simple insult. Instead he turned to Jesus, noticing that his lover was already glaring at the rabble-rouser.

"At least you've gotten that far. It's more than anyone else has done," Jesus spoke, and his voice carried to the back of the church, effectively snuffing out everyone else's words. He turned to Rick and his eyes were stormy. "Gregory won't be happy, but at least there's progress. I urge Alexandria to move faster."

And the crowd's muttering was back.

….

They were back in the unoccupied house, in the same sheets that they had been twisted in last time. The husky aroma of sex filled the room. Rain gently pattered against the windows, at odds with the ferocious sounds that were growled, hissed, and shouted out. Jesus groaned and grabbed at the headboard, his hands gripping the end of the bed like a bird's talons. Rick's hands were like vices around his hips, hanging on with a punishing hold. He plunged into the other man at a vicious pace, both of them working out their frustrations and fears together.

When he finally came, he did so with a thunderous roar, emptying into Jesus with one of the most satisfying climaxes he had ever experienced. Before he collapsed into an exhausted heap on the bed, Rick reached around and grabbed Jesus' hard cock. The other man had neglected it, choosing instead to use his hands to steady himself as Rick fucked him. Rick only needed to jerk Jesus' length a few times before Jesus too was coming, a strangled yowl exiting his mouth as he did.

"Wow," Jesus sighed when they had finally caught their breath.

Rick was lying on his back, looking up at the ceiling, a serene smile on his face. It wasn't often he felt this peaceful or at ease anymore. The moments were becoming rarer and rarer. He didn't want to fall asleep and lose the night, but he could feel exhaustion coaxing him towards slumber.

"Rick."

The last time Jesus had said his name like that after sex he had revealed that he knew how Rick felt about Daryl. Rick felt a jolt of fear prickle through him. "Yeah?" he asked quietly.

Jesus leaned up on his forearm. "I want you to be careful."

Rick looked into his lover's eyes, surprised to see the amount of fear he saw there. "What do ya mean?" he asked, his voice even quieter than before.

"Negan won't be as easy to take down as you think. Be careful. I don't know what I would do if… Well, just be careful. I don't like this." It wasn't normal for Jesus to sound so unsettled, for his voice to be so broken, for him to remain so serious.

Rick grabbed his lover and pulled him to his chest, petting the long hair and smoothing it down. "It'll be okay," he whispered.

"You don't know that."

….

Waking before five in the morning without an alarm was a skill that he had acquired during his policing days. It hadn't faded because of the apocalypse. He blinked wearily, glad to see that it was still dark outside. He could go back to sleep for a little longer if he wanted to. Rick turned his head to the left to look at the man that was lying in a curving shape, with his right arm thrown across Rick's chest. To be honest, it wasn't a surprise to see that the other man was awake and staring up at him, the worried expression from the night before still painted on his face.

"Hey," he murmured, leaning down to place a kiss on the tip of Jesus' nose.

Jesus gave him a weak smile before rising up to give him a proper kiss. Their tongues met just briefly, unable to help themselves. "Gross. Morning breath," his lover teased when they parted.

Lip lifting into a smirk, Rick rolled, pushing Jesus onto his back and pinning him there. He straddled his lover and lowered his mouth, licking a long stripe along the other man's cheek. Struggling now, Jesus began to protest in earnest, but he could hear the laughter behind the objections. Rick ignored him, pushing harder in order to keep him in place. Licking at the creases of Jesus' mouth, he then moved on to Jesus' ear.

"Rick! Stop!" Screams, intermixed with laughter.

When he stopped, Jesus was finally giving him an easy smile.

….

Showering together had become a soothing ritual that Rick enjoyed almost as much as he did their sexual encounters. It was a calming occurrence that proved how familiar and comfortable they were with one another. They would both get wet and then take turns washing one another, mapping out each other's bodies all over again every time. The shower in the master bath was so large that there were two showerheads. They could have each bathed independently and had plenty of room to move freely. But they craved one another, yearned to be close. Standing under the spray, Rick held Jesus close in an intimate embrace, enjoying the skin contact and warm water rolling along his skin.

He didn't know how long they had been standing like that, every possible inch in contact with one another, when he felt Jesus' lips move against his chest. "Wha'?" Rick asked, his voice sleepy with contentment.

Jesus pulled his head away and stared at him. "I think you should tell him," he said, and though his voice was quiet the words were weighted heavily and seemed to echo in the small space.

He wasn't going to play dumb and act like he didn't know what Jesus was talking about. His lover wanted him to tell Daryl how he felt about him. "Why?" he asked, and he couldn't help the annoyed tone.

"You never know what's going to happen. What if he dies tomorrow? What if you do?"

Rick chuckled. "Then the secret goes to the grave."

He leaned in to give the smaller man a kiss, but Jesus pulled away even more. A frown marred the face he was so used to seeing a smile on. Jesus was actually…upset with him. That hadn't happened yet. So far their romance had been fun and games, light hearted and without trouble.

His annoyance from before instantly doubled. Rick too pulled away, untangling his arms from around his lover's body. "What does it matter to you?" he spat. "Ya gonna share me, Paul?"

He knew Jesus so well, felt like they had been together since the beginning of time. It was the same feeling he had with Daryl. They were just so in sync, understood each other on a primal level. But the Hilltop messenger was still so unpredictable to Rick. When he expected an explosion of indignation, the other man instead crossed his arms and remained calm. "And what if I wasn't opposed?"

The former lawman deflated at the question. How do you respond to a discloser like that? He opened his mouth, closed it. What did Jesus mean? In frustration, Rick rubbed at the bridge of his nose and then pinched it, trying to ground himself.

Jesus spoke before he could find something to say. "I may not know Daryl as well as you do, Rick. But that doesn't mean I don't want to get to know him better." He approached Rick and grabbed at his hands, and Rick didn't fight the smaller man.

"I'd be lying if I said I didn't find him attractive." Rick's eyes flicked down straight into Jesus' tender gaze. His lover was smiling slightly, a mischievous curl to his lips. "He's got a certain… hillbilly charm."

Rick batted his hands away at that and Jesus laughed. "I'm kidding, I'm kidding," he soothed, grabbing hold of Rick's hands again. "He's ruggedly good looking," he amended. It was a moment before he continued, this time his voice serious. "I see why you love him." The smile on his lover's face grew slightly and he shushed Rick when he tried to argue. "Okay fine, _care_ about him." The knowing smirk was infuriating. "And if you care about him so much… Well, then I know I will too."

Shaking his head, Rick laughed without any humor. "You act like he's going to say yes. It's one thing to find out _one_ man wants you. But if I tell him we _both_ want to fuck him?" It wasn't like Rick to use such course language, but he was feeling trapped and helpless. Couldn't Jesus see how stupid of an idea it was?

The playful smirks and smiles from seconds before were gone in a flash. Jesus was suddenly closed off, distant. "You never know," he said, and Rick couldn't discern the emotion he heard in his lover's voice.

And then Jesus was exiting the shower. Rick was left with a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach and a disconcerting feeling of déjà vu.

….

At eight that morning, the group of Hilltop citizens gathered at the front gates and said their goodbyes, armed with the goods they had traded for and the information they had gathered. Jesus was still refusing to speak to him, upset or offended or whatever the hell it was. Rick did his best to ignore his lover, acting like it didn't bother him. He went about his business with his own people, fortifying walls, commenting on the gardening, speaking with members of his family.

But as the last of the Hilltop group loaded up in the van they had arrived in, Rick rushed towards the vehicle before it could leave. Knocking on the driver side window, he waited until Jesus rolled it down. The sour look on the smaller man's face was enough to make Rick suddenly bashful. But he made himself make eye contact and say, "Drive careful and stay safe. You never know what could happen."

Words that echoed what Jesus had said in their earlier conversation seemed to make the harsh look on his lover's face soften. He smiled slightly and extended his hand, giving Rick a crushing handshake. "We'll be okay. Thank you," he said. With a lowered voice, Jesus added, "And just _think_ about what I said."

A bittersweet smile found its way to his face. But Rick nodded all the same. "I will."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes:**

I know next to nothing about hunting or cleaning game so first off, sorry if I made mistakes about the way it's gone about. I did a little looking up about it, but I'm sure I got things wrong. To be honest I'm against hunting unless it's necessary and/or you use as much as possible on the animal. ANYWAY, personal opinions aside, there is description of hunting and getting meat from the animal's body in this chapter. Just thought I would warn in case that makes some readers uncomfortable!

Hopefully the second chapter lives up to expectations.

Thanks for reading!

 **Chapter 2:**

A twig snapped somewhere off to his right, probably a few dozen yards away or so. Rick swung his head in that direction, ignoring the sweat that rolled down his forehead and dangled at the end of his nose. Shrilling tweets from birds in the trees above were the only other sound he could hear, and he strained his ears in order to pinpoint where the stick had broken. For a few moments he sat and listened, hearing nothing. Surely he hadn't scared his prey off? Creeping forward in a crouched position, he parted a shrub that lay in front of him.

In the clearing beyond was the doe, her ears flicking in agitation. So he hadn't scared her off, he realized with a sense of relief. But she was certainly alerted to his presence. Her glistening black eyes were fixed at a point off to Rick's left and she was standing stock-still, barely breathing. Steading himself, Rick raised the hunting rifle as slowly as possible.

Before he had even leveled the weapon a sharp whistling sound whizzed through the air. Rick was able to see the arrow a second before it made impact with the deer, going straight through the poor creature's neck. "Daryl," he cursed, though he wasn't really annoyed the other man had stolen his kill.

The deer bucked, eyes widening as it thrashed in agony. An additional whistling and the arrow had a companion, another bolt joining the first, lodging itself firmly in the doe's neck. The flailing slowed and the deer buckled, falling to the forest floor with a pained grunt. It was then that Daryl approached with his hunting knife, striding forward quickly. With an efficiency Rick knew he would never possess, the archer slit the dying animal's neck in order to end its misery. Blood gushed from the wound, but Daryl ignored the gore, instead going to work getting his arrows out of the doe and returning them to his quiver.

"I had the shot," he said, standing up from his crouch.

Daryl looked at him over his shoulder, and Rick could have sworn he saw a good natured smirk there. "Ya snooze ya lose," the hunter quipped.

Rick shook his head as he approached. "More like you just want all the glory."

Daryl snorted. "Right."

"Oh Mr. Dixon, you're so big and strong." Rick raised his voice into a falsetto and batted his eyelashes. He wasn't sure who he was imitating, but he knew it would annoy his friend all the same.

"Shut up," Daryl huffed, and Rick was certain the other man was rolling his eyes.

Rick wasn't convinced that Daryl was irritated enough with him yet. Raising his voice into an even higher pitch, he continued with, "Oh Mr. Dixon, could you teach me to hunt like you?"

The archer fully turned at that, a grimace of distaste on his lips. "Ya make an ugly girl."

A bark of laughter escaped him.

The hunter smirked at him, both men sharing a good-natured smile before Daryl was turning around again, his hunting knife unsheathed. Without preamble, Daryl plunged the knife into the deer, making cuts around the legs. Rick watched with disgusted interest as the archer moved on to making incisions along the interior of the legs before cutting open the chest to connect the slices. He moved with practiced ease, once again ignoring the blood that flowed over his hands and pushing past the entrails in order to begin collecting the meat.

He felt useless standing there doing nothing. Daryl preferred to do this alone, he knew, and didn't appreciate Rick's sloppy efforts. So with a sigh, he took a better hold on his rifle and paced the perimeter of the clearing, keeping guard.

A few times Daryl muttered incoherently and once Rick caught a, "Would'a been easier to string her up", but other than that the archer worked quietly, ignoring Rick. It was peaceful out there in the woods, and if he pretended hard enough, Rick could believe it was before the dawn of walkers and he and Daryl were old friends out on a hunting trip. It was a fantasy that brought a content warmth to his heart.

"Done," Daryl grunted after a while.

The scene wasn't pretty. Blood was spattered all over the forest's floor, the deer's body mutilated. Daryl had packed the meat into two backpacks they had brought along with, one for each of them to carry. He knew from previous hunts that the archer had removed the bones from the meat in order to lessen the weight of the load, and Rick was grateful for that.

Shouldering the backpacks, the two men shared a nod before setting off towards Alexandria. They were about four miles from the town, a far enough trek to give Rick some anxiety about the distance and all that could happen on their way back. But the hike was short enough that he knew the two of them could get back home before noon. It would be a highly productive day, giving Rick time to work on other chores when they got back.

While Alexandria's food stores weren't necessarily low after trading with the Hilltop, hunting for food was a way they could conserve. And Rick was practical, knew Daryl needed space and freedom in order to stay sane. Hunting was a way for Daryl to get out and let him feel like he was actively contributing. The benefits outweighed the danger, though these hunting outings certainly did bring the leader a fair bit of unease. Anything could happen. The world they lived in now was more uncertain than ever. But Daryl _needed_ this, dangers aside. It was the right decision, in the end.

And, in the deepest recesses of his mind, Rick knew he craved these outings as much as Daryl. Of course, it was for different reasons. He yearned for one on one time with the solitary hunter, needed the connected feeling he got from the other man. It was so similar to how he felt when he was Jesus, but also so different. He was addicted to both men. He knew, deep down, that Paul was right. He loved both of them.

But Daryl could never _ever_ know.

So Rick would be Daryl's best friend, his brother, if that was all he could have. It was better than nothing.

….

They took a break when they reached the stream that ran about a mile from Alexandria's walls. Sweat was in every crevice of their bodies, the Virginia summer heat and humidity wreaking havoc on them. Daryl sat fully in the stream, rubbing at his bloodied limbs, cleaning off the gore from the deer. The water stained a deep crimson, and Rick pushed back a shiver when the horrifying thought of it being _Daryl's_ blood in the stream somehow entered his mind, rather than it being the animal's.

Morbid thoughts like that had become more and more frequent. Jesus had effectively put the fear of death in him again with his 'you never know what could happen' speeches. While Rick was always afraid that his family may be injured or killed, the fear had numbed over the months without a recent loss. Alexandria was softening him, he knew. And it was dangerous. But now his constant worry was back, his protective drive in full force once more.

Rick shook his head, trying to dislodge the troubling thoughts in his mind. He bent, cupping his hands to take a drink of the cool liquid. He couldn't shake his thoughts, but they took a different, acceptable turn. Rick took note of the comfortable silence between them, one that had lasted the entire three miles they had already traveled. There was no need to fill the quiet with meaningless words. There was no need to talk. They seemed to speak in nonverbal nods, hand gestures, and shared smiles. It was a relationship Rick hadn't experienced with a friend before (Jesus didn't count, as he was his lover). Shane, who he had believed to be his best friend in the world, had come nowhere near what he and Daryl had. And when they did talk to one another, no matter how small the words, how short the conversation, each interaction felt weighted in a good way. It was as if each syllable shared between them was precious, not to be wasted.

Sighing, Rick sat along the bank of the stream and worked his boots off in order to dangle his bare feet into the water. It felt amazing. Another sigh escaped his lips, a pleased, content sound. He closed his eyes, though the buzz of 'danger! potential danger!' went off like warning bells in his mind when he did so.

"Rick?"

The archer's voice was quiet, didn't startle him. Without opening his eyes, Rick responded. "Yeah?"

"Negan. When are we goin' ta make the move on his camp?"

Was Daryl worried about the raid, or simply curious? It was difficult to discern what mood Daryl was in. Rick opened his eyes finally, looking at his companion's face. The hunter didn't look troubled, but Rick knew from experience that the other man hid his emotions well.

Rick was hesitant to answer. His family hadn't agreed on a date, and Rick was loathe to make an executive decision. They were all eager to end Negan's threat, but uncharacteristically anxious about making a move. Rick wondered if it was because they seemed to have found a permanent home, felt that there was more at stake than ever before. "We'll have a meeting at the end of the week about it. We need to make that decision. As a group." He nodded at the words.

Daryl answered his nod. "'Prolly better to do it sooner than later. Don't want 'em to get wind of us, or our plan."

"You think someone from the Hilltop will betray us?" It was such dramatic language, it made him internally cringe. 'Betray'. But isn't that what it would be? A complete betrayal of their allies.

Daryl contemplated the question for a few seconds before shrugging. "Ya never know."

Rick was startled badly by the three simple words. His chest constricted. The words were so eerily similar to what Jesus had said. He fought for control, didn't want Daryl to notice how strange his reaction was. "Guess not," he choked out.

Silence resumed for a few minutes after that, and Rick was entirely relieved. It gave him time to calm down, to let the echo of Paul's words recede. He wasn't sure why Daryl repeating the words had shaken him so much. It was perplexing.

"How's that little shit of yours doing?" This time Daryl's voice did startle him, and not just because it was a sudden noise that disrupted the quiet. Was Daryl making small talk? It was so unlike the archer. Not that Daryl didn't care about his children, but he wasn't normally known to outright ask questions like that. He showed his interest and concern in less obvious ways. What was Daryl up to?

"Which one?" Rick answered, and they both shared a chuckle.

Rick paused a beat, collecting his thoughts, before truly answering. "Carl's actually in a pretty good place. Isn't letting it bring him down." Remembering his fear from the night Carl had lost his eye, of the brutal onslaught against the horde of walkers and the rising of the Alexandrians, Rick ran a hand through his hair. He had been wrong about the citizens of Alexandria. They _did_ have what it took to survive. But he had also been wrong about their safety. Even Alexandria's walls couldn't keep them secure. That, coupled with Jesus and his speeches, had made Rick more alert than he had been in weeks. Perhaps if he had been that way before, Carl wouldn't have been so badly injured. Maybe he would have seen the danger Ron posed.

Just as guilt began to swarm his mind, Daryl spoke. "Don't do that. It's not your fault. Carl don't blame ya. No one does."

A grim smile twisted his lip. He was thankful for Daryl's words, but it didn't mean he took them to heart. "Thanks," he said anyway, and Daryl nodded at him. Rick leaned forward, pulling his feet from the water and putting his boots back on. "Should we get goin'?" he asked.

Daryl nodded and rose out of the stream, not seeming to care that his clothes were sopping wet. Was it his imagination, or did Daryl almost _reluctantly_ shoulder his pack full of meat? Rick couldn't be sure, tried to read the little nonverbal information the hunter was giving. Why would Daryl be disinclined to leave? Perhaps he didn't want to return to Alexandria's walls, didn't look forward to being confined once more. That was probably it.

….

Rick began to feel his fearful tension ease when he caught sight of Alexandria's walls in the distance. They would be home in less than five minutes, and both he and Daryl would be safe. Well, for the most part, Rick reminded himself. Even Alexandria's walls couldn't keep out everything. They were always in danger in this new world.

"Got a pretty good haul," Rick commented as he readjusted the straps on his pack. He felt the need to linger in this moment, when Daryl was his and only his.

The archer nodded with a quiet grunt of agreement.

If Rick wasn't mistaken, he could almost see Daryl sinking into himself, putting up the protective shell he used when around others. But there was something else…almost like Daryl was pouting. Rick almost laughed at that. The other man _really_ wasn't looking forward to being confined behind the walls.

He turned away from facing Daryl and went to continue heading towards Alexandria. As he was passing through a copse of bushes, a rabbit darted out, intent on getting away from perceived danger. It startled Rick and he backed up, thinking the sudden movement was a walker or some equally as hostile creature. As he stumbled away, he lost his balance and fell to the dirt.

"Jesus, Rick," Daryl breathed, and when the leader turned to look at his friend he saw that Daryl had his crossbow out, his arm muscles straining with tension.

A shaky laugh escaped him. "Sorry." He rubbed his hands along his face, wiping at the sweat that had collected there. Letting out an unsteady breath, Rick closed his eyes and shook his head. "Can't believe it could be over that easy."

He heard Daryl shift, uneasy. "Nah Rick, ya would put up more of a fight than that."

The former lawman laughed again, a self-deprecating sound. He was about to respond with some sort of quip, but when he opened his eyes and turned to look at Daryl, the words caught in his throat.

Rick had never believed all that hogwash about time stopping, or stalling, or whatever people claimed happened whenever their life was in peril. He had faced death so many times and the clock had never slowed. But in that moment, Rick understood what people had meant. Possibly the difference for him was that _his_ life wasn't in immediate danger. Rather, it was one of the men he _loved_ that was facing death that caused his world to come to a screeching halt.

It wasn't often that his family let their guard down and were caught unaware by walkers. In fact, at this point in the apocalypse it was practically unheard of. Perhaps it was that they were both so engrossed in realizing their mortality. Or maybe it was an unusually quiet walker. For whatever reason, they hadn't noticed the straggler pacing steadily towards them, and now it was too late.

Gnashing teeth, spittle flying from a greedy and perilous mouth was all that Rick was able to notice before the walker had tumbled on top of Daryl. Jagged fingernails scrabbled at the hunter, desperately trying to find purchase in order to better latch its mouth on the human. Daryl didn't scream, didn't even gasp in fear. He was stoic from the moment the walker knocked him down to when the creature had its mouth mere inches from his face. The only way Rick could tell Daryl was facing any sort of crisis was the growl on his lips and the way his teeth were grit.

Rick was frozen in terror, watching as the man he desired so desperately for fought for his very life. The walker was too heavy, limbs flailing too wildly, for Daryl to reach the hunting knife that was sheathed on his hip. The deadly teeth were getting closer, undead strength able to match Daryl's adrenaline fueled struggles. Must have been a newly turned walker, no decay visible on its body. The solid form wasn't easily destroyed, the flesh still firm.

He couldn't move, was struck still by the depth of his terror. His mind screamed at him to _move_ in order to help, in order to _save_ Daryl. Why wasn't he moving?!

It wasn't until Daryl threw his head back in order to get his eyes on Rick, seeking out his companion. "Rick!" he hollered, and the distress and fear was so real, so unlike Daryl, that it finally spurred him to action.

Gripping his own knife in a tight grip, he stabbed the walker in the head, ending it in one effective stab. But the fear that skittered up and down his spine, that still prowled in his mind, made him insane in that moment, and he threw the walker's body off of Daryl and continued to stab. Five stabs, ten, twenty. The skull was a bloody, matted mess when suddenly Rick felt hands pulling him away, stopping the decimation of the walker's body.

"Rick, it's done," Daryl growled, his own fear still thick in his throat.

He wasn't in his right mind. He was strung out, felt like he was going to fall to pieces. Before Daryl could back away, he turned and grabbed him, enveloping him in a fierce hug. Rick could feel the archer's body stiffening, knew Daryl didn't like contact like this. In fact, the hunter didn't usually even tolerate it.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I took too long. You could'a been dead." The words were spilling out of his mouth, Rick unable to stop them. Daryl began to fidget in his arms, clearly uncomfortable with their proximity.

But he didn't pull away.

An awkward hand patted his back. "It's okay. I'm good." Daryl's attempt at soothing him was appreciated, but did nothing to ease the guilt and horror that was filling him.

"It's not okay, it's not okay. It's not."

….

When they were behind Alexandria's walls, Rick sought out the unoccupied home he and Jesus used. Normally Rick wanted to be in the house he shared with his family, but at that moment he needed space, time alone to calm down. With shaking hands, he undressed, heading for the shower. The water was soothing, the scalding temperature a punishment for his lack of action in the critical moment that the walker had showed up, for almost letting Daryl _die_. Rick turned his face into the spray, gritting his teeth against the burn of the water on his face.

After his shower, he tumbled into his and Jesus' bed, gripping the sheet and taking a big whiff, searching out the comforting scent of his lover. His body hadn't stopped trembling, and Rick was alarmed to realize he was crying, his chest heaving with huge sobs. It made sense, though. He had almost lost Daryl today, and much of the blame lay on him. His distraction from falling, his slow response time. It could have all been over. He could have lost one of his family members. He could have lost his best friend. He could have lost… one of the men that he loved.

Rick cried for a long time.

….

"Daaaaaad," Carl complained, pushing at Rick's chest.

It was the third hug he had given his son that night and the teen was starting to get tired of the mushy affection. Rick couldn't help it. The realization that Daryl had almost died scared him _so_ badly. He needed to show those closest to him how much they meant to him. So with a smile, Rick hung on, refusing to let Carl escape quickly.

"I love you, Carl," he murmured, only loud enough for his son to hear. He enjoyed embarrassing him, but there was an extent to his teasing. Rick could imagine his son's reaction if he had said the words loud enough for others to overhear.

Carl huffed, but Rick caught the small smile on his son's face. "Love you too, dad. Now get off me!"

Rick allowed the boy to pull away just as Michone entered the room saying, "Aw, how sweet." The tone of her voice indicated she was aiming at poking fun at Carl, but Rick knew she really did find the scene sentimental. With an indignant groan, Carl stomped away, the tips of his ears flaming red with embarrassment.

"Someone's sulking." Michone had a small smile on her face, but Rick didn't miss the concern in her tone.

"Aw, he's just mad you caught him bein' sweet."

She leaned against the doorjamb, her arms crossed over her chest. "I didn't mean Carl."

An eyebrow rose in a play at nonchalance, but Rick felt an anxious churning begin in his gut. He wasn't a fool – he knew who she meant.

"You two get along fine out there?" she asked.

He wondered if she had ran into Daryl already, had seen what kind of mood the archer had been in. Rick knew Michone's question was worded carefully in order to cover all bases. She meant getting along together personally, as well as if they had encountered other problems. She had always been clever, he'd give her that. "There was no need to say anythin'," he said with a shrug.

A frown creased her mouth and deep furrows appeared between her brows. "You would want to know if any of us had trouble. Rick, we care about you."

The former lawman ran a hand through his curls. "I know that."

"Then _talk_ to me."

He let out an exasperated sigh, not appreciating the attention. "Wasn't a big deal." But it _had_ been. A fresh wave of shame washed over him, filling his gut with disgust for himself. And the fear was back, chilling his entire body. "Didn't notice a walker, an' it almost bit Daryl. Shook us up a bit."

Michone nodded, lips in a grim line. "It's dangerous out there."

Why was she stating the obvious? Was she urging him to divulge more? Rick wasn't certain, couldn't read the expression on her face. "Just can't believe we could lose someone so easily. So quickly," he expanded, hoping that would appease her. At her compassionate gaze, Rick felt his chest loosening. He could tell Michone. She would understand. "An' Daryl is probably upset with me," he admitted, the shame reaching a crescendo. "I froze…and he almost died because of it."

She straightened, no longer leaning on the wall. At her approach, Rick felt himself internally recoiling, believing he didn't deserve her sympathy. She put both hands on each of his shoulders, staring at him until he finally looked into her eyes. "Rick, he isn't mad at you." She smiled, squeezing his shoulders gently. "If anything, he's going through the same thing you are. Realizing it could have been you, that you could have died."

Rick shook his head. "No. I didn't even move until it was almost too late. I watched as that walker almost…" He couldn't finish the sentence, felt the sting of tears burn his eyes.

Michone's right hand cupped his cheek, an intimate move that startled him. "Trust me, he isn't mad at you." She smiled again, an encouraging and bolstering expression that made his heart constrict. "Everyone has a moment in life when they freeze, Rick. You got through yours. Just don't let it happen again." Her voice was soft, soothing, but her message was clear.

"I won't," he promised, pulling her in for a tight hug.

….

It was a relief when Jesus showed up with a small group of Hilltop members in the middle of the week. Despite Michone's assurances that Daryl wasn't upset with him, the hunter had been avoiding him, or at least it felt like it. Daryl's behavior hurt. Rick knew he deserved the treatment, but he also yearned for the hunter's company, missed the loss of his best friend's companionship. Talking, working, and spending time with the rest of his family helped, of course, and he had been paying more attention to his own children, but he still longed for someone who understood him at his core. And the only two people who knew him that way seemed to always just be out of reach.

So it was with exuberance that Rick greeted the group when they arrived, welcoming the Hilltop members to Alexandria. They had come to trade, swap information, and check up on their plan of attack for Negan's compound. After the obligatory polite conversations, Rick quickly steered Jesus away from the others, heading straight for the home they had made their own. He was careful enough to make sure they weren't followed or spotted, but his pace was quick, making Jesus laugh at his antics.

When the front door slammed behind them, Rick desperately grabbed at Jesus, pulling him in for a frantic kiss. Their tongues met, tangling together in a wild dance of passion and desire. Rick pinned Jesus' hands against the door, holding him steady as he ravished the other man's mouth. Jesus put up no resistance and angled his head, allowing Rick to control the kiss further. He couldn't get his tongue in far enough, couldn't get his body pressed up close enough. Rick felt undone, needed to show Jesus how much he cared, how much he wanted the other man. Releasing the Hilltop man's hands, Rick began working at his belt. There was no time. He needed to claim Jesus _right now_.

Jesus worked at his own pants, kicking them off and baring everything below the waist for Rick's starving eyes. Dropping to his knees, Rick grasped the hardened length of his lover and began to lick sensuous stripes along the tip, teasing and torturing in the way he knew Jesus loved. The other man gasped with pleasure and took hold of Rick's hair, clamping on to the thick curls and pulling hard. Rick took the hint and spread his lips, taking the cock fully into his mouth. He wasn't as good as Jesus at oral sex. But his lover never complained, simply seemed to appreciate the effort. And oh, did Rick put effort into his blowjobs.

He ran his tongue along the underside of the flesh, adding intense suction whenever Jesus seemed to grow too comfortable. As he worked his mouth over Jesus' cock, Rick fumbled around in his pants pocket, finding the lube he had stashed there when he had heard the news Jesus had arrived at Alexandria.

When he felt Jesus trembling, his breath coming out in frantic gulps, he pulled away, ignoring the whine from his lover. He had spread the lube over his own straining length while he had been sucking Jesus, so there was no more time spared on foreplay. He spun Jesus, the Hilltop man planting his palms against the door with anxiously excited intakes of breath. Without preparation, Rick began to push inside. He did so slowly, however. No matter how rough he and his lover got during sex, Rick was always sure not to hurt him. He needn't have worried, however. With a grunt of frustration, Jesus jerked his body back, encouraging Rick to go deeper, obviously able to take his length despite the lack of stretching beforehand.

The tight grip of Jesus' body on his cock made him growl with heightened arousal. He took hold of the smaller man's hips, urging Jesus to stand on his tiptoes to help with the angle of his thrusts. Jesus threw his head back, seeking Rick's mouth for a zealous kiss, one that was full of tongue and nipping teeth. They rocked together, finding their synchronized and perfect rhythm right there against the front door until Rick was screaming out his lover's name while Jesus bit down hard on his own arm, stifling his own cries.

It was over too quickly, always too quickly. But as they tumbled into the living room, kissing fervently, Rick knew it was going to be a long night, and that had just been the first of many orgasms.

….

It was several hours later when they finally lay still in their bed, curling together in an exhausted heap. While Jesus was younger than Rick, they were both at an age when so much sex didn't come easily anymore. It truly had been a hell of a night. They were dozing, enjoying the silence and the comfortable presence of one another. Hands intertwined, Rick flexed his fingers and was pleased when he felt Jesus' answering squeeze.

Drifting in a sea of calm and the feeling of belonging made Rick feel happy in a way he hadn't felt in years. He and Lori had been on the downslide for a long while, even before the age of the walkers. They loved each other, sure. And it wasn't like they were fighting every night. But the passion for one another had dwindled, and no longer had their common interests seemed so strong.

His job had also become stale. Rick had loved being a police officer. _Loved_ it. There was nothing like taking down a criminal, or helping someone who truly needed it. But the cycle of cases had grown old, the bullshit bureaucracy only added to frustration, and the flawed justice system had put him into a state of despair.

And his life had become…boring. The same routine day in and day out, the distance growing between him and Lori, his hobbies no longer interesting. It was all a depressing spiral without any kick. Everything was so lackluster. He didn't have problems with his boss or coworkers, he and Lori didn't fight outright. It was terrible how he had craved some sort of friction with some aspect of his life, even if it had been negative. At least it would have made something _change_. Rick hadn't admitted his feelings to anyone – not even to Shane. He had trudged along, hoping that it was a phase in his life that would have passed if he ignored it long enough.

But then the apocalypse had happened, changing everything. The end of the world was awful – fear was a constant and death was a well-known companion. People had turned into savages. So many lives had been lost.

And yet… In a sick and twisted way, Rick was thankful for the walkers. Without them he wouldn't have gotten Judith. He wouldn't have found his new family. And he wouldn't have met Daryl or Jesus. The thought made the former lawman's gut twist with terror.

Rick really appreciated life now, wasn't just going through the motions. It was a precious gift, and every job or task he was set with was meaningful. He never was bored in the new world, never felt like his life was wasting away. He truly mattered to his family, his actions affected them. Everything had changed.

The new world made a person _truly_ appreciate moments like the one he was having with Jesus, made them ingrain it in their memory to really cherish. The walkers had made relationships meaningful again. People _meant_ more. Bonds unlike any he had ever known were forged during the end of the world.

It was uncomfortable to feel even an iota of positivity about an event that had cost him so much, that had affected other people so much. So many innocent people had died, had had their lives changed for the worse. Rick himself had lost people he dearly loved. And it could end up costing him much more in the future.

"What're you thinking about?"

Jesus' voice shook him from his thoughts. Rick realized his eyes were open, fixed up at the ceiling, but were unseeing. His hand had clenched, closing around Jesus' fingers with what Rick was sure was a painful pressure. Releasing his lover's hand, he sighed. He rolled on his side so he could face Jesus head on. "You were right."

A small smile met that. "I always am. But about what?"

"'Ya never know what can happen', is what ya told me, and I brushed you off." Rick's brow scrunched in displeasure with himself. "I almost lost Daryl this week," he admitted, his lips in a taut line.

Jesus' smile fell and he snuggled up closer, grabbing at Rick's hands and reconnecting them.

"A walker almost got 'im, and I just _sat_ there." His voice had become gravelly and his eyes stung with unshed tears. Humiliation was lava burning in his gut, eating a hole through his body. Jesus gently shushed him and grabbed his head, pulling Rick in close and cradling him against his chest. His lover's earthy scent was so soothing. Rick never wanted to pull away.

"That must have been terrifying. I'm sorry Rick." He planted a chaste kiss on the top of the older man's curls.

"It was…" he began, and with shock, Rick realized that the emotions that had coursed through him during the moment Daryl had almost perished had been akin to what he felt when Lori had died. He had almost lost his sanity when his wife died, and Rick was sure he might have again if Daryl had died that day. "…horrible," he finished lamely.

He almost felt like he was betraying Lori with his thoughts, but the rest of him pushed the idea away. In all honesty, the connection he had with Jesus and Daryl rivaled what he'd had with his wife. The end of the world had made bonds with others so meaningful. When you found a true companion it was honest and raw. Nothing was superficial. The apocalypse had forced interactions and connections that couldn't have happened before the turn of the world. What he and Lori had before had been special, but different. In fact, it couldn't even really be compared to what he had with Jesus and Daryl. Their relationship was on an entirely different spectrum. So really, why did he even allow himself the idea of feeling slighlty guilty?

With a frustrated huff, he forced himself to get out of his own head and exist in the present. With Jesus. "It was horrible," he repeated, knowing the measly words didn't encompass everything he had felt. "And you were right," he said again.

"Sometimes we forget, get too comfortable behind our walls," Jesus agreed, his hands a comfortable weight around Rick's body, holding him close.

Despite the reassuring position, Rick pulled away so that he could look his lover in the eye. "That's not all, though."

Jesus cocked his head. "Oh?"

"I think I need to tell him how I feel." The words almost made him cringe. He really, _really,_ didn't want to tell Daryl. He was so afraid of the reaction, of losing their easy friendship.

Without a victorious smile or whoop of laughter at the admission, Jesus nodded, solemnly serious. Rick hadn't expected that. "You probably should," he agreed. "Don't want to lose your chance and be left wondering the rest of your life."

He should have known Jesus would know the feelings that resided in his heart without him needing to voice them. A warm smile creased his mouth. But worry tickled and nagged at the back of his mind all the same. The smile quickly fell away. "Paul?"

Sensing that he was feeling vulnerable, Jesus sat up, turning to fully face Rick, giving his wholehearted attention.

"Ya really don't care?" He ignored the trembling in his voice.

His heart skipped a beat when Jesus didn't immediately react. But then Jesus was kissing him deeply, laughter bubbling from his lips. Rick felt that he should be offended, but couldn't find the emotion in him amongst all the relief.

"Rick, I already told you. I could see you loved Daryl before you even noticed me."

The Alexandria leader felt himself nodding. He knew how much Jesus surveyed things, took in the people and situation before he made a move. It didn't surprise him that Jesus had watched him for some time before deciding to approach Rick about a sexual relationship. Jesus would have seen the way he looked at Daryl, would have realized. He didn't have blinders on because he wasn't part of the family…yet.

Jesus continued. "And I told you I don't mind sharing. I want to get to know him too. He's obviously a catch if Rick Grimes pines after him so much." He laughed, finding the situation amusing.

But Rick sensed an uncertainty despite the confidence. Jesus was always so sure of himself. He knew what he wanted and didn't mess around. But Rick had peeled back the layers, seen what the other man was like in private, had discovered different facets just like he had with Daryl. And Rick understood the look in Jesus' eye in that moment, and he felt his heart shattering.

He snatched at the locks of his lover's hair and tugged hard, pulling them together in a kiss. Rick wanted to bare his soul to this man, share a piece of his heart with him. He didn't deserve Jesus and his kindness, his understanding.

They pulled apart, panting heavily. Before lust could derail the conversation, Rick spoke up. "Even if by some chance Daryl said yes, I would never leave you." Jesus tried to speak up, began stammering, but Rick sprung up, pinning him to the bed and knocking the wind out of him. "Paul, this ain't easy for me ta say. I'm actually scared to even…" Rick let out a harsh breath once more, irritated with himself and his fear. He looked at Jesus, trying to man up and say what needed to be said.

He was unnerved by the intensity in which Paul was looking at him, felt speared through the heart with the sheer adoration in his lover's eyes. Rick didn't deserve him. He really didn't. Rick leaned down, close, lost in the moment, effectively pushing away his fear as he had done many times before. "I love you, Paul. I love you so much. I can't remember the last time I was so happy."

The words were so irritatingly meaningless. They didn't carry the strength, the depth of emotion that Rick truly felt in his heart. It was so frustrating that he couldn't vocalize how much he cared, that the words couldn't truly express how much he cared for Jesus. It was like he had found a piece of his own soul in the other man. It was as if he hadn't truly been living before he met Paul. And now…he was halfway there to being complete.

But it didn't seem to matter. Jesus, in his infinite wisdom and his total understanding of Rick, seemed to know what he was trying to say. A soft smile lit up his lover's face and then he was pulling Rick close for a gentle kiss. It may have been a soft touch, but it was brimming with electricity, a sizzling passion and sensual current of feeling that Rick knew they were both experiencing.

"And I love you, Rick Grimes," Paul whispered when they pulled apart, the warm smile still gracing his lips.

It was enough to brace him, to make him ready to voice his request. Rick knew he couldn't risk losing Jesus. He had witnessed Daryl's close demise, and he didn't think he could bear it not to have Jesus close by where he could protect him any longer.

"Come live here. With me. Please." He pretended not to hear the desperation that peppered his voice.

The smile slowly fell, replaced by a guarded expression. Paul was…uncomfortable by his words. For the first time since he had considered asking Jesus to move, Rick suddenly felt uncertain of the answer his lover would give him. "Well?" he prompted when Jesus continued not to say anything.

The Hilltop member frowned, locked eyes with Rick and slowly, but clearly, answered with, "No."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes:**

In this chapter I mention Alex, a nurse from the Hilltop. I haven't read the comics yet but apparently Alex was a lover of Jesus/Paul's in the comic series. I used that for my story to add some drama. Haha.

 **Chapter 3:**

At first, Paul's answer didn't even register properly. He stared dumbly, waiting for the 'yes' to come tumbling out. And when it still didn't come, when the 'no' was finally made clear to his distraught mind, Rick felt anger take hold. His anger soothed the hurt, the feeling of betrayal that his lover's answer gave him.

"No?, he repeated, pulling away and sitting up straight.

Jesus sat up too, his face tense, sensing an impending fight. But his words were soft, at odds with his body. "I can't," he amended, as if that answer would comfort Rick.

"You can't?" Rick parroted, feeling stupid when he had nothing else to say.

His lover still remained calm, even though Rick's tone was steadily growing darker. "Rick, I love you, okay? I really, really do, and I can't believe I've found you and..." Jesus shook his head, realizing he was heading off track. "But that doesn't mean I can just…up and abandon my community."

As the leader of his own people, and as the head of his family, Rick knew that what Jesus was saying was completely logical. But the hurt he harbored in his heart, the longing for his mate to be with him at all times drove out all reason. So he spat out the first insult that came to mind. "You'd rather live under Gregory? He's incompetent."

It was a childish thing to say, and in all honesty, not a very good insult. Jesus shook his head, a smirk pulling at his lips. He was actually amused by this, Rick realized, and it did nothing to calm the swirling anger that was building in his chest. "He may be," Jesus agreed with a shrug. "But he's our leader, like it or not. And our people have lived well for a long time, despite any incompetence on his part."

He could feel his frown deepening, his lips pulled down with the weight of his mounting frustration. "Who there are you so close with? Why do you even want to stay?"

Again, instead of growing angry with his line of questioning, of the accusing nature of his questions, Jesus answered him serenely. "It's not about what I want, Rick. It's about what's right. And you would do the same thing. You wouldn't leave these people. Even for me."

Rick couldn't understand why he was so upset. Everything Paul was saying was true, and he was so calm, so _understanding_ of Rick's emotions. He should have been able to talk it through calmly with his loved one, come to some sort of mutual agreement. He should have seen Paul's side of the argument, realized that he too felt a sense of obligation to his original community. But he couldn't help the way he felt. Rick wanted Jesus to live in Alexandria so much and it was eating him up that Paul just wouldn't say yes.

"I want to be with you, Rick. I want to know Daryl the way you do. I want to hold your children as my own. I want to be in your group – your family. But I can't abandon my people. They need me far more than you do right now."

Rick shook his head, stubbornly denying every word Paul was saying. It all made sense, was all true. The Hilltop community members were not as hardened as his family. While they were slightly better than the Alexandrians, Rick knew Jesus was one of their best fighters. One of the most valuable men they had. Without him and his skills, his guidance, Rick knew the Hilltop would be sorely pressed in many ways. But he couldn't accept it.

"They'll be fine," he argued. "We can help train them."

Jesus nodded, ever the cool headed one, and reached out to clasp Rick's hand. "That's fine. Of course we can help train them. Probably should have been doing that more all along." He smiled softly at Rick, not cowed by the intense frown on the Alexandria leader's face. "But that still doesn't mean I can move _right now_. Training takes time. Give me a few months, and then I'll be more open to the idea."

Rick knew that was a rational and fair point. He also realized he should have been happy – Paul was willing to move away from everyone he had known for so long to be with _him._ All he was asking for was a bit of time to ensure his people's wellbeing, to make sure all was well before he made such a life changing switch. But the selfish jealously was there, fueling his irrationality and illogical thinking. He couldn't see past his blind hurt, couldn't agree that Paul wasn't asking too much.

Jesus spoke again before Rick could. "You don't know how badly I want to say yes, Rick. This is hard for me too."

"If you want to so bad then just do it!" he snapped, unable to help it. In the back of his mind he realized his argument wasn't based on fact or coherent thinking. Rick just couldn't help how he felt. He wanted – no, he _needed_ – Paul to live in Alexandria with him. He needed to have his lover close where he could protect and care for him. Why couldn't Paul understand that?

The Hilltop messenger released his hands as if burnt. Jesus crossed his arms in front of him, a move that was so defensive to Rick that it made his internal hackles rise further. An old insecurity began to surface in the wake of Paul's denial that there wasn't anyone specific at the Hilltop he was staying for. He tried to fight the suspicion, knew it was completely irrational and would turn this small argument into something big. But the words were out before he could stop them. "Or is this really about something else?"

Jesus narrowed his eyes and Rick felt a lurch in his gut. When the other man gave someone _that_ look…well, it was trouble. But he was in too deep to backtrack now, couldn't stop the hurt from feeding the cruel words sprouting in his mind. "Is this about Alex?"

Rick _knew_ it was wrong – he didn't need to see the incredible hurt in his lover's eyes to realize it. Paul had told Rick about his tryst with the Hilltop nurse (Doctor Carson's assistant) in confidence, had explained that while at one point he had been extremely attracted to the other man, his feelings were nowhere near what he felt for Rick. Paul had let him know because he wanted to be honest with him, especially with the fact that Alex still resided at the Hilltop – and here Rick had barely been able to admit his feelings for Daryl when Jesus had asked him. It was hypocritical on so many levels, but the former lawman refused to feel guilty in that moment. He couldn't, or he would lose and that would mean his lover wouldn't be with him. And he just couldn't have that.

For a few seconds, complete silence ruled the bedroom. Rick remained obstinate, staring sullenly at his lover even as he saw Paul's look grow darker every moment. When Paul spoke, his words were clipped, short, a tone that Rick had never heard directed at him. "No, I'm not staying because of Alex." The Hilltop man closed his eyes for a beat, and when they were reopened Rick saw tears gathering there. "If you don't trust me, I can't do this." And then Jesus was sliding off the bed, making his way towards the bathroom.

"Paul!" Rick called, scrambling off the bed and hustling towards the bathroom door.

He didn't make it in time. Jesus had the door closed and locked before he could get his hand on the handle. "Paul, come on!" Rick pounded his palm against the door in frustration.

"Leave me alone, Rick. I don't want to say something I'll regret." His lover's voice was thick with what Rick was sure was tears.

Hands on his hips, a sigh escaped Rick. "I'm sorry, okay?" His tone, however, did not indicate that he felt that badly. The anger and hurt were still too fresh, too strong, and it was evident in his voice.

The only response he got was the shower spitting out water, effectively drowning out any further words he might have said.

….

Paul remained in the bathroom the rest of the night. No matter how many times Rick pounded on the door, pleaded sweetly, shouted, or apologized, his lover did not open the door. No matter what approach he took, Rick could not get the other man to give in. The former lawman had finally given up around three in the morning and had gotten dressed, retreating to the couch in the living room. He vowed to stay awake enough to hear if Paul tried to slip past, and closed his eyes.

As he lay there, the pain of Paul's denial began to ease and the raging inferno of hurt and fury dwindled into glowing embers. Rick realized he had been a fool, cruel and heinous in a way that Paul absolutely did not deserve. He didn't normally act like this. Even with Lori, Rick hadn't had the energy to fight back with her. She had been able to cut him at the knees every time. He just couldn't get his emotions to match the fervor in which hers burned. But with Jesus…something about this man made everything brighter, more animated. Rick felt like he couldn't think clearly in relation to his new love, made him so irrational that it was dangerous. But how did you put those feelings into words? Did it even make his actions forgivable? He practiced his apology in his mind, clinging to the adoration he had for the man that had given him so much love in such a short time.

When he woke later that morning, the quiet of the home unsettled him. He knew without doubt that his crafty lover had snuck out despite his every effort to stay alert.

Rick made his way upstairs anyway, taking note of the made bed and open bathroom door. He wandered in to the bathroom, feeling dazed and broken. He tried to pinpoint where he had gone wrong, why he had let his insecurities take hold. Why had he lashed out at Paul, when the man had only ever been loving and understanding, kind and thoughtful? He had never given Rick reason to doubt or be cruel.

It took him an embarrassing amount of time to notice the piece of paper on the countertop near the sink. With trembling hands he snatched up the note, bringing it up close in order to read the words that had been elegantly printed there. Rick had no doubt it was Paul's handwriting. Taking a deep breath, Rick began to read the letter.

 _Rick,_

 _I wasn't lying last night. I really, truly, wholeheartedly love you._

 _But I can't accept the way you treated me last night either. I have done nothing to cause you to doubt me. I told you about Alex not so you could use him against me, but because I wanted to be closer with you. To have my honesty thrown back at me is disgusting, and I can't explain how hurt I am._

 _I_ _ **do**_ _want to live with you, and I would have been more receptive if your approach had been different. I understand my answer wasn't what you wanted to hear. But I have to do what's right. We can discuss this further when you have cooled down._

 _Please don't come after me. I need some time too. We'll talk when I come back again._

 _I love you._

He sat down on the toilet, head in his hands. He felt like crying, could feel sobs beginning to froth in his chest. How was he going to make this right? Paul was so rational and was such a sympathetic man, but he had really hurt him. Rick wasn't sure if he could be forgiven for what he had said.

….

The words in the letter were fresh in his mind, the no contact request ever present even as he made his way to directly disobey them. He had sulked for a full five minutes before deciding not to listen. In no way did Rick plan to avoid the Hilltop man until he departed. He needed to make this right _now_. He couldn't wait for another one of Paul's sporadic visits to make sure they were in a good place.

His boots clicked lightly against Alexandria's paved streets, as he tried to keep his gait steady instead of rushed and panicky. Citizens of the town milled about, most greeting him with friendly smiles or waves as he passed. A few he casually asked about Jesus, trying to pinpoint exactly where the wily man was.

Rick knew that if Paul didn't want to be found, there was no way he would be. But perhaps his lover had anticipated him actually obeying a request for once, because Heath was able to point him in the right direction, leading him directly to Jesus. When Rick finally found Paul, he was helping the other Hilltop members load up their van, seemingly unaware of Rick's approach.

There weren't many boxes needing packed away, and from what Rick could view from his position they appeared hardly filled. Some canned goods for the most part, while the fresh vegetables the Hilltop had brought would now be in Alexandria's storeroom. Their trading had slowed down to a trickle, and if Rick had to guess, he figured Gregory sent the convoys more as a constant reminder of their deal to end Negan's threat than to get supplies.

Paul wore his usual dark colors, garbed in his heavy trench coat and woolen hat despite the vicious rays of the sun causing the temperature to steadily climb. Whereas Rick's curls were already dripping with sweat, the front of his shirt dampening with moisture, Paul appeared cool and content in the blistering mugginess, no sign of perspiration on his body. Shaking his head with wonder, Rick leaned against the picket fence he was perched behind. He knew better than to confront Paul in front of others, and decided to wait for the perfect moment to strike.

As a cop, he had people watched all of the time. Sitting in the squad car with Shane, they had discussed why each person might be out and about, coming up with the backdrops of random peoples' lives as a pastime. Rick had learned to read some body language, could interpret small clues others unconsciously gave. But as he gazed at Paul, he realized that the man was a mystery. Rick couldn't pinpoint what sort of vibe Jesus was giving off. He tried to look at it with a detached point of view, knowing he was biased because of his closeness to the other man. But no matter what way he looked at it, Paul was an enigma. The smile he gave to the members of his group was genuine, but closed off in a way that Rick couldn't read. His body wasn't tense, gave no indication that he had fought with the love his life mere hours before, yet his voice was soft and withdrawn. His movements were as fluid and graceful as ever, but there was a disjointedness to it that bothered Rick. Something was off, that was for certain.

When the last of the supplies and crates had been loaded, Jesus leaned against the side of the van, watching as the Hilltop members said their goodbyes to the Alexandrians that had gathered. And that was when Rick struck. He ambled over slowly, his hands in his pockets and his body loose and relaxed. Jesus turned as the lawman approached, his eyes narrowing just as they had the night before. Refusing to back down, he got close, putting his arm up on the hood of the vehicle and leaning on it. "Hey," he said softly, ignoring the potent ire in his lover's eyes.

Jesus had his arms crossed, hands under his armpits, but Rick could see the other man's wrists flexing. Realizing his lover was clenching his fists in anger, he decided to speed up his apology. "I know ya said not to come, but I didn't want ya to leave without us talkin'. Never go to bed angry and all that, you know." Paul continued not to speak, but Rick forged ahead, figuring silence was better than arguing or walking away. "I'm sorry about last night. I said what I did for the sake of hurtin' you and nothin' else. I don't doubt ya and never have."

Eyes downcast, Rick straightened up, sliding his arm off the hood and instead clasping his hands in front of him. "An' I know you can't leave right away. I want you here is all, and it hurt when you-"

"Stop."

Rick looked up in surprise. Paul's eyes were stormy, but with what emotion he wasn't sure. "I appreciate the apology, Rick. I really do. But you- I-…I asked you not to come."

Confusion struck, and with it, the embers of his anger were stoked. He tried to keep his voice even, he really did. But Rick could hear the exasperation when he said, "If I hadn't come, then you wouldn't have gotten the apology today."

The look on Paul's face could have curdled milk. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting out a huff, before reopening and turning his angry gaze back on the Alexandria leader. "Yes, Rick. That's why I'm in a bit of a bind." Rick was certain he wasn't imagining the condescending tone. "I appreciate that you want to make things right, and that you're owning up to your mistakes. But I asked you to do one thing, and you blatantly disregarded it. Do you even respect me?"

Aaaaaaaand the rage was back. Why was it that those you loved most were the ones who made you the angriest fastest? Rick hadn't come up with the answer yet, but he had certainly asked it enough times during his marriage with Lori. Hands on his hips in frustration, Rick stared down at Paul, disbelief etched on his face. "'Course I do! Are you even serious?"

"Right, because I'm supposed to believe that." Paul was hissing under his breath, trying not to draw attention. But Rick could see the other man's matching fury just below the surface. "You respected me enough last night to accuse me of cheating. You respected me enough to do exactly the opposite of what I asked you." He opened his mouth to continue, but bit it off, throwing his hands up in the air and beginning to stalk away.

Grabbing at Paul's shoulder, Rick pulled him back and up against the van. His lover resisted, tried to get out of Rick's grip. By now some of the Hilltop members and Alexandria citizens had noticed that their conversation wasn't friendly, but no one stepped up to intervene, uncertain murmuring evident. Rick dug his fingers into Paul's wrists to get his attention, but he made sure his grip wasn't too painful. "Say what you were gonna say."

Looking up at him, Paul's eyes danced with a wrath Rick had never seen. "I told you, Rick. I'd prefer not to say something I'll regret," he answered with a deathly calm voice, still in control despite the tempest of emotions that crackled between them.

"Rick?"

That was Michone's voice, questioning, but not timid. She was coming closer by the sound of it. He had to hurry this up. "Say it," he spat.

It took a few precious moments, but Paul finally took a breath and whispered, "You don't respect me enough to tell your family about us. So maybe I will go back to Alex. He never hid how he felt and he _never_ treated me this way."

Paul didn't have to struggle to get away this time. His words had made Rick's grip go slack. The smaller man escaped, putting up his hands and smiling, assuring the gathering crowd all was well. All Rick could do was stand dumbly, a cold numbness seeping into his body. It wasn't until Michone clasped his elbow gently and tugged that he began to move, not even registering when the Hilltop van started up and drove away.

….

Michone brought him back to their family home, silent as the lawman she escorted. She continued to say nothing as she sat him at the kitchen table and busied herself getting him a cup of coffee. She kept his black, just how he liked it, but he watched distantly as she added a packet of sugar and a dash of creamer to her mug. Sitting down next to him, she slid his cup towards him and with a nod took a sip of her steaming drink, gazing at him questioningly. Rick copied her movements and took a long drink, ignoring the fiery burn as it slid down.

Gazing at her over the rim of his drink, he took note of her relaxed posture. Her hands gripped the mug loosely, and she leaned back in her chair. For all intents and purposes Michone looked at ease. However, her lips were set in a serious line that Rick had grown to recognize as a signature sign of Michone's when she felt anxious. She sure was making a show at nonchalance, and she was doing a damned good job. But it was obvious to Rick that she desperately wanted to question him. And she was hoping he'd open up on his own terms.

She'd be waiting a while if she expected that.

This time he took a slower sip and kept his eyes on the dark liquid, trying his best to ignore Michone's inquisitive gaze. It was easy to recede into his own thoughts, thinking back on what he had said to Jesus and what had been said to him. Rick felt sick. The fight had been so reminiscent of his relationship with Lori. Cruel barbs meant to hurt, quick words meant to cut deep. Jesus had been the exact opposite when it came to arguing so far. He had kept a cool head, never quick to anger. But this…it was as if Lori had taken possession of Jesus and spoken for him. The thought made Rick's heart ache. He must have _really_ hurt Jesus, pushed him into a state of fury that wasn't normally felt.

However, even through the incredible rage, Paul had been true to himself. His lover's face hadn't flashed with triumph at the vicious threat, and Rick was almost certain Jesus hadn't even really meant it. He had done what he had to get away, end the fight before it could get out of hand. Paul had been thinking of him, probably, realizing Rick wasn't ready to reveal their relationship and had seen the growing crowd that were bound to ask questions.

Yet… Jesus _had_ brought up the fact Rick hadn't revealed the nature of their relationship. Maybe it was something that bothered Jesus. But the other man had never told him that. With a groan, Rick lowered his cup and slumped in his seat. And here he had thought women were difficult to understand. Perhaps he wasn't suited for any sort of relationship. He just wasn't capable of wading through all this emotional mumbo jumbo.

"Are we really doing this again?"

He almost smiled. Rick figured it would be Michone to crack first. "Do what?" he asked, and he noticed the tired quality of his voice. And it was barely eight in the morning.

The taught lines of her lips deepened and pulled downward, an obvious sign of her displeasure. "You know we care about you, Rick. You need to talk to us when something 's wrong."

A soft chuckle escaped. "Are you talkin' about our conversation after the run with Daryl?"

Michone sighed, closing her eyes for a moment and then opening them slowly. Psyching herself up for dealing with such a difficult man, Rick figured. "Yes."

He shook his head and smiled, making sure he made direct eye contact with her when he said, "Michone, trust me. There's nothin' going on. Jesus and I just had a very small disagreement."

An eyebrow arched in disbelief. "You pinned him against the van, Rick."

"It was nothing."

If she noticed the hard note enter his voice, she didn't show it. She took another drink, though her eyes never left his face.

Sighing, he rubbed at his face. He could feel a headache coming on. "I promise, I would tell you if there was a problem."

"Would you?" Her tone was anything but innocent.

So many emotions were at play in his heart, he couldn't quite settle on how he felt about her accusation. Why had his emotional circuit board been rewired so drastically? What had Jesus done to him?

He looked at Michone closer, taking note that she looked utterly exhausted. Worry deepened lines around her eyes, and when he looked down at her hands Rick could see that her fingers were now clutching her mug with a fierce grip. She really cared about him. He knew that. And she would listen with an unjudging ear. She would give good advice.

But it was so much easier to lie.

"I would."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes:**

I am so sorry this has taken so long. I really have no excuse. I'm just pathetic! Ah. Thank you for being so patient.

I'm going to add two chapters this round in a hope to appease you. Haha. ;D

 **Chapter 4:**

After several more minutes of gentle prodding from Michone, she reluctantly let him escape to tend to his leadership duties. Rick feigned a good natured smile, greeted the Alexandria members he hadn't seen earlier that morning, and went to check on the state of the ramifications of the south wall. He lent a hand where he could, helped tighten a bolt on a section that needed it, held up a post as it was secured. All the while the pain lay bubbling beneath the surface, and Rick studiously ignored it, letting the hard work numb the ache that was spreading ever so slowly.

The routine work allowed him to keep his mind off Jesus. Whenever he even dared to think of his lover Rick went to find something else to do. At lunch time Rick went home to make sure Carl and Judith had a proper meal. He sat with them, smiling as he listened to Carl's tirade about Alexandria's weak points. His son was a child of the apocalypse, and his priorities were set on survival. Yet he had the know-it-all attitude of any teenager that had existed before the turn of the world. The thought brought a smile, and he watched Carl, trying to imagine the man he would someday be.

When the meal was over, Rick wiped at Judith's mouth with a damp cloth, nodding in agreement to whatever Carl was saying. To be honest, he wasn't quite sure. Something about the stockpile of gas for the vehicles or something. His attention had steadily turned inward throughout the meal (and Carl's repetitive, circular tirade) and he went over his argument with Paul over and over. He had totally been in the wrong, he knew that. Jesus hadn't done anything to deserve the cruelty. And where had that jealousy come from? Was it a result of Lori's betrayal, or something else altogether?

"Dad!"

As if stung, Rick pulled his hand away from his daughter's face, realizing he had been wiping at the same corner of her mouth over and over. Smiling weakly at Carl, Rick shrugged and threw the rag into the sink. "Stubborn crumbs."

"Right." Carl's arms were crossed, and the strong look of disapproval that was so often on his son's face these days was back.

He'd messed up again.

Rick sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. My mind's someplace else." Opening them slowly, he made eye contact with Carl once more. "Okay, tell me. What do we do to fix the problem?"

His son's stern stare wasn't gone, but it lessened ever so slightly.

* * *

He threw himself into manual labor the rest of the afternoon and early evening, exhausting his body in order to keep his mind occupied. Rick supposed it was a good thing in itself. The Alexandrians appreciated his presence and seemed to respect that he wasn't too good to get his hands dirty. He even got to know a few of the town's members better, engaging in small talk through all his tasks. Rick lost count of all the tasks he assisted with. He hoisted and hauled loads of supplies, propped up and steadied ladders, surveyed the horizon and took note of the number of visible walkers, and calculated food store numbers with Olivia – just to name a few. The lawman felt satisfied with how hard he had worked. It had been a long time since he'd been this productive. His body certainly didn't appreciate it, however. As the sun began to dip below the peaks of the roofs, signaling night's approach, Rick realized how sore he was. He was going to seriously regret working so hard when he woke up in the morning.

Figuring he deserved some down time, Rick trudged home, internally enjoying the words of thanks and pats on the back from his community members. He lumbered upstairs to the master bath, closing the door softly behind him and enveloping himself in comforting darkness. Breathing deep, Rick began to strip, throwing his sweat drenched clothes to the floor. He fumbled slightly as he felt his way along the bathroom wall, searching for the bath. When he found the faucet he turned both handles on full blast, adjusting the temperature after a few minutes. He kept the lights off, finding a sick pleasure in how accurate he was at finding the bubble bath and shampoo bottle without light. He set the shampoo on the edge of the bath, testing the water with his hand before nodding decisively.

Hissing as he entered the burning water, Rick forced himself to lower down, tensing as the water reached his chest. He had never been in a bath so large before. It didn't escape him how ironic it was that he was living in such luxury _after_ the apocalypse had occurred. A snort of derision escaped him at the thought, but he refused to ruminate further and instead allowed his mind to mull over Jesus. As he thought, he let his body loosen, extending his fingers and toes. Wiggling his fingers under the water, he pictured his lover, a pained grimace curling his lips when he recalled the way he had manhandled Jesus up against the van.

Shame and grief were at the forefront of his mind, and a painful acidic burning in his throat made it hard to breathe. How could he have acted so irrationally? It wasn't like him. Rick groaned and submerged fully, enveloping himself in a watery cocoon. He lay on the tub's bottom until his lungs burned as fiercely as his guilt. Breaking the surface, Rick reached out for the shampoo bottle. He wasn't as graceful as before and knocked the container off the tub, and with a muttered curse felt along the tiled floor until he found it. Squeezing out the contents, Rick noted the masculine scent of the shampoo. He couldn't recall the brand, but it hadn't been one he used before. He liked it though, thought the bold scent matched his emerged leadership.

Rick went about his bathing routine with leisurely strokes. The water steadily cooled and still he remained, staring blankly into the dark at where he figured his submerged feet would be. It wasn't until Carl knocked on the door and announced that everyone had gathered in the living room that Rick finally got out of the tub quickly and dried off. Turning the lights on, Rick grabbed the clean clothes he'd actually remembered to bring in with him and got dressed.

He'd forgotten – twice a week his family met to discuss Alexandria and any news they had to make sure their new home remained as safe and secure as possible. Rick was absolutely not in the mood for it. Normally he enjoyed spending time with his family, loved the interactions between people that may have never come together if not for the tragedy of the apocalypse. But today… he just wanted to be alone. He needed to figure out a way to get Paul to forgive him. He needed to analyze himself, figure out why he had acted so insane. But he knew he couldn't cancel. He owed his family more than that. The meeting would be a good time to discuss taking on Negan, at least.

The lawman took a moment to stare at himself in the mirror. His scruff was at that perfect stage of not too long or too short. His hair matched – a perfect length, not too shaggy or cropped. His damp curls fell loosely across his forehead, sticking against his skin in what Rick was sure was not an attractive manner. He shook his head like a dog and pushed his bangs back, analytically sizing himself up. His eyes were still as blue as ever. He couldn't discern any extra lines. His frown wasn't any deeper. Rick couldn't see anything different about his appearance. It shocked him. Had he become that adept at hiding his emotions? A self-deprecating snort escaped before he flicked the light switch and headed downstairs.

* * *

"If a few of the Alexandrians join then we should have the numbers. Who would be willing? And helpful?"

"You mean _use_ ful," Abraham quipped, and a few smiled or chuckled. They all knew Abe was fond of the Alexandria citizens so his comment didn't come from a bad place. The humor couldn't break the tension in the room, however. They were all nervous by the prospect of taking on Negan's compound. So many had been lost in the past in far simpler battles. From the Hilltop's horror stories, they were about to fight with everything they had against the devil himself's army.

Tara piped up with, "I think Heath could do it. He seems capable."

A few nods, murmurs of agreement.

Rick took some notes over the suggested names, but he could tell his mind wasn't focused on the meeting. His eyes kept trailing over towards Daryl despite his intense desire not to. The archer never returned his gaze, and Rick wasn't sure if that was better or made it worse. His heart was shrieking, giving Rick the impression that perhaps it was _not_ good.

Ever since he's entered the living room Daryl had seemed distant. He stood apart from the group, and while that in itself wasn't strange, the hunter's body language appeared stiff and rigid. He hadn't looked at Rick when he'd walked down the stairs, hadn't given him the mutual nod they always shared. Daryl hadn't looked this uncomfortable since before he'd come to accept the group as his family.

Rick could feel tears building up inside, pounding the backs of his eyes. Daryl's very stance hurt. He could tell it was because of _him_ that Daryl was acting so strange. Somehow he held it together, however, and added his input whenever it was expected.

The meeting ended on a solemn note and an agreement to discuss the plan with the Hilltop. Rick had subtly made his intentions known – an outright attack was their best option. That would give Negan no warning, and would leave little time for a traitor to relay their plan to the Saviors. Whether his family had picked up on his intentions or not meant little to Rick. He knew they would stand behind his decision when the time came no matter what.

Glenn clapped him on the shoulder as he left, his lips turned down in a frown. Rick shared the look, nodding at the other man as he put his arm around Maggie. His other family members were quiet, murmuring soft goodbyes as they made their way upstairs or to the house next door. Rick felt badly that the plan was causing stress and he knew it was an unpleasant topic.

But it was necessary.

* * *

They sent a messenger out the next morning with the news they were ready to finalize the plan. Rick expected the Hilltop would either come that night or the following day. There was bustling around Alexandria, the citizens somehow picking up on the nervous energy his family exuded. Rick was too sore to help, having exerted himself too much the day before. He made his rounds though, knowing words of encouragement were sometimes just as good at boosting morale.

He had an ulterior motive as he made his way around the whole of Alexandria. He kept his eyes peeled for Daryl as he socialized. Rick hadn't intercepted the loner after the meeting, not wanting to make a scene. But he had tossed and turned the entire night, guilt and longing for Jesus mingling with his fear that Daryl was upset with him too. It would destroy him if _both_ men had cast him out.

Daryl was a hard man to find when he didn't want to be found, but Rick knew him better than anyone else. After searching Aaron and Eric's garage (no sign of Daryl there working on his bike), he searched the lookout towers, and then Judith's room (Uncle Daryl had a soft spot for the child, whether he admitted it or not). He was nowhere to be found within the community walls.

And that's when it hit him.

* * *

He hadn't brought anything but a knife, deciding to leave his Colt at home. He wasn't quiet as he approached the clearing where the walker had almost killed Daryl, knew the hunter would hear him even if he was trying to be as silent as possible.

The archer was crouched, staring down at the bloody mess of walker that Rick had decimated. Shoulders hunched, body tense, hands clasped on his crossbow in a death grip. Rick almost thought about retreating at the sight, knew Daryl was closed off and in a mood that wouldn't appreciate Rick's disturbance. But he refused to back down. Taking a deep breath, he continued to approach, stopping when he was a good three yards away.

Silence reigned over the pair for a good minute, nothing but the insects and birds of summer filling the void. It was almost peaceful, and Rick was loathe to ruin it. But he had to do this, had to make Daryl forgive him. He couldn't lose him.

"It'll never happen again." It was a promise that he meant, but logically knew he couldn't keep. It made him feel better to say it though, and he was pleased with the amount of conviction in his voice.

Daryl didn't turn, just continued to stare down at the gore.

"I was stupid. I froze. I don't know why." Well, he did, but Daryl didn't need to know that. "I'm really sorry, Daryl. You could'a died an-"

His friend huffed, turning to stare at him over his shoulder. "I ain't mad atch' ya Rick. Quit blubberin'."

That derailed him. So why was Daryl acting so standoffish? Why was he out here staring at an annihilated corpse? If he wasn't upset, wasn't contemplating his own mortality, what was going on? Rick felt lost. All the things he had planned to say were gone, didn't matter in the face of this revelation.

He wasn't stupid enough to think Daryl was just placating him. Daryl didn't say things unless he _meant_ them. Every word out of the archer's mouth was precious and true. So what exactly was going on here? Rick scratched at the back of his head, digging his fingers in to ground himself.

"Well uh…What're you doin' out here then?" he asked, and Rick thought it was quite possibly the stupidest thing he had ever said.

Daryl finally stood, shaking his head before turning around. He glanced at Rick behind the curtain of his sweaty bangs before turning away, looking back towards Alexandria. Hoisting his crossbow, Daryl motioned with his head for Rick to follow him.

They walked in a perpendicular line towards Alexandria, but their pace was slow, a leisurely stroll that Rick didn't understand. Daryl was quiet for the longest time, leading the way. That in itself was peculiar. But Rick followed, happy that his friend was even allowing his company.

"I'm mad at myself."

He paused midstep, almost not sure that Daryl had even spoken. "Why?" he finally asked, staring intently at the back of the hunter's head.

Either Daryl didn't know the answer or didn't feel like responding. He suddenly took a sharp right away from Alexandria and Rick followed, feeling as if he were stepping further out onto a frozen lake and the ice was cracking all around him. This was uncharted territory. Feelings. Emotions. He'd never been good with them. And Daryl was even worse. How was he supposed to proceed here?

They walked for a good while, the silence anything but comfortable this time. Rick felt his hands fidgeting, didn't know if he should press Daryl for more or let him talk when he felt ready. When the archer finally stopped, he knelt down to inspect the dirt.

"Empty," Daryl grunted, and Rick realized he was inspecting a snare.

They followed the same pattern for another hour in what Rick began to realize was a large circle around the perimeter of their home. All of Daryl's traps were empty, some sprung but no catch. They didn't speak to one another, rather walked in a quiet that had once been companionable but was now strange. Yet there was comfort in it, and Rick hoped what he had with Daryl hadn't been broken. The awkwardness would pass with time. Or at least he hoped.

Finally they could see Alexandria's walls again and Daryl made a final tsk of disappointment checking his last trap. He shook his head, unkempt hair falling loosely around his face with the motion. Rick watched him, admiring the beauty that his friend so obviously didn't realize he possessed. He wanted so badly to reach out and touch him, to ask for forgiveness despite Daryl's assurance he wasn't upset. But he didn't, instead leaning against the trunk of a tree and continuing to quietly observe.

"It shouldn't a' got the jump on us." A short, deep breath. "On me."

Rick forced his outward expression to remain neutral, but inside he was jubilant that Daryl had shared more. And he could work with this. So the other man was feeling inadequate? Embarrassed?

"It wasn't your fault, Daryl. It happens to everyone." He was going for nonchalant, adding a shrug at the end of his words.

Apparently it wasn't the reaction his friend wanted. Daryl practically growled. "Don't happen to _me_."

" _Everyone_ makes mistakes," Rick argued, shaking his head. "And when I froze, it jus-"

Daryl cut him off. "Rick, shut up."

And he did just that, closing his mouth slowly and staring at the archer, taking in the strained way his shoulders hunched. This conversation really had the other man riled up.

"I should'a heard it." His tone left no room for argument, and Rick decided it wasn't worth it to try and talk some sense into his friend. "And 'cause of my mistake I – we – could'a lost ya."

Rick's breath froze in his chest. Oh, he yearned for Daryl's words to mean more than they did. Rick pictured a scenario in which the hunter was awkwardly professing his love, little hints like the slip up of using "I" instead of "we" at first. It hurt his heart to think of it and he forced himself to focus, to stare into Daryl's eyes and remind himself that this man was his best friend and nothing more. And he had Paul. Why should he desire more?

He nodded, clearing his throat. "I feel the same way Daryl. If I hadn't killed the damn thing in time, ya might be gone. I couldn't live with that." It was a statement so full of truth he felt his heart swell with the grief of even imagining losing his friend.

"Wouldn't be the same," Daryl grumbled, so garbled and low Rick barely caught it.

Before he could argue, or make a counterpoint, Daryl moved forward. His movements were uncoordinated, jerky, like he was unsure how to proceed. But his friend continued to move closer, determined despite his discomfort. Rick tensed, unsure what was happening, but he did not back away when Daryl finally reached him. Muscular arms pulled Rick into an embrace, calloused hands clapping him on the back a few times. Rick felt shock zigzagging through his body. While Daryl always accepted Rick's touch, he _never_ initiated their hugs. This was the first time the archer had ever done this.

He lightly returned the hug, wrapping his arms around the hunter and squeezing softly. It felt so good to hold Daryl, to feel his warmth and firm presence. Contentment was a warm blanket that settled over his mind, and Rick was struck with the feeling that all would be well.

The hug lasted seconds, but Rick felt that it went on an eternity. Like their words, or nods, or shared looks, this touch meant more than it would have revealed to onlookers. The strained silence had snapped and there was the easy companionable quiet between them. All the hurt and discomfort from before had disappeared.

When they separated, Daryl graced him with a small nod and Rick returned it, a smile slipping onto his lips. They understood how much they meant to one another. Daryl had never had a friend like him, someone who knew him on another level. And Rick had never had a man so loyal, someone who he trusted implicitly. They relied heavily on one another, and while Rick still felt that deep down yearning for their relationship to become something more, he cherished the connection they _did_ have. He wasn't sure what he would do without it.

"Enough sappy shit," Daryl spit out, turning away. Rick felt his smile deepening. The moment couldn't last forever. Daryl could only deal with emotions for so long before he retreated. But Rick felt satisfied with their interaction, knew they had dealt with whatever had been driving a wedge between them. Their shared guilt, fear that death had been so close, realization how deep their connection was. It had been good for them to clear the air.

"Glad you're alive, sheriff," the archer added before he set out towards Alexandria.

Rick was certain that his smile couldn't get any wider.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes:**

Rick's speech (and the following dialogue in that scene) in the church is taken straight from the episode! Woohoo. So basically I didn't write that bit. Just the emotions surrounding the words.

 **Chapter 5:**

Jesus did arrive the next morning as Rick had believed, along with a few of his compatriots. He was blatantly ignoring Rick, sidestepping around the Alexandria leader when Rick approached. A snort of frustration escaped him, but he couldn't help the strong sense of adoration and amusement he felt at Paul's antics. His lover was stubborn and strong, two qualities he wouldn't wish away for the world.

He trailed behind Paul as the other man made his rounds. It wasn't as if he hadn't known it, but seeing how popular Jesus was among his people solidified Rick's feelings that he had chosen a perfect partner. His lover was well-liked, favored even, and many of the Alexandrians' faces lit up when he passed by. _Like the actual Jesus Christ_ he thought, a goofy smile finding his face at that.

As they meandered through the center of town, slowly making a path towards the church that their meeting was to be held in, Jesus took a sudden sharp left, heading towards the space between two houses. Rick figured that was his cue to follow, bracing himself for the following interaction.

They were hidden from the street by a prominent bush that had grown lengthy, its shrubby branches trying to touch the building opposite. Dark green leaves cast a cool shadow, shielding them from the summer heat. Rick took another deep breath, watching with trepidation as Jesus turned, staring at him with hard eyes. The two didn't speak for a few seconds, Paul leaning against the structure at his back with arms crossed. Rick shuffled his feet, but didn't break eye contact, forcing himself to be uncomfortable.

It was what he deserved.

"You have something to say to me, Rick?" Of course it would be Paul that would be brave enough to start the conversation. It should have been Rick. His lover's voice was cool, yet he took no offence to the tone.

"I'll never put my hands on you again."

Despite himself, Rick knew, a small smile erupted on Paul's face. "Even when we're in the bedroom?" The tone had lightened, a teasing lilt that comforted Rick immensely.

"Especially then," he joked back, but his voice was strained, his guilt still weighing on him. "Paul, I really am sorry. I should'a never... I can't believe I... I don't deserve you." Tears had started to form, his voice growing rougher and choppier as he spoke. All the words he had practiced in his mind fell away in the face of his lover's calm and loving visage, the shame curling so burningly hot he could hardly stand it.

Paul straightened up, pushing off the wall with a slight arch to his back. He approached slowly and wrapped Rick in a calming hug, the feel of his arms around him so soothing Rick felt as if years of his life had been added in the one touch alone. He didn't deserve this comfort, didn't deserve Paul's forgiveness. The tears started to fall in earnest as his own hands came up, mimicking Paul and grabbing his lover close.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry." The mantra became more garbled as he said it, his voice clogging with sorrow.

Jesus rubbed circles into his back, alternating between large and small shapes, all the while cooing to and shushing Rick with gentle words. It was all so unfair. Why was he the one being comforted?

He was talking, not quite realizing what he was saying. Words full of excuses, reasons, justifications. It was insane, but he couldn't stop himself from speaking. "Lori - she was such a good mother - she, she cheated on me with my best friend. I had to kill him. Things were never the same after she slept with him. We never made up before she...she." A hiccup of sobs. Paul already knew all this, had heard the stories in the dead of night as they held one another, every secret laid bare between them. But it felt fresh this time, a catharsis he didn't know he needed. "I don't want to love Daryl. I want to love just you. It's not fair to you. Nothing is fair for you." His hands clenched into the fabric of Paul's shirt tighter, pulling the other man as close as he could get. "He almost died because of me. Because I...I just wouldn't... move." The sobs were still coming, but they were slowing down. Rick managed to choke out, "I don't know how to be good enough for you. I feel so...out of my league. I love you so much." It was the most raw and honest he had ever been. He was so insecure of his relationship with Paul. He feared for it to be over. Yet he couldn't stop making mistakes.

It wasn't until his body had stopped shaking that Paul spoke, his words soft. "We all mess up, Rick. I forgive you. I know Daryl will forgive you. I'm sure Lori forgives you. Your best friend - Shane, right? - he would understand." He ignored Rick's head shaking, his denial of Paul's affirmations. "I love you. More than you know." Paul laughed quietly, kissing Rick gently, a chaste touch that burned in its intensity despite its innocence.

"You're a good man. A strong leader. Brave. Capable." Paul shushed him before he could disagree. "That doesn't excuse your actions, no. But you're sorry - I can tell. Don't do it again. Learn from your mistakes. Move on. It's time to stop feeling sorry for yourself." His voice was firmer now, a commanding tone that rivaled Rick's own leader voice.

Rick nodded, pulling away from Jesus and wiping at his eyes. "I really am sorry, Paul. You can stay at the Hilltop as long as you want. I just want you. I mean, I just _need_ you. It doesn't matter where you're at because..." Rick couldn't complete the sappy sentence.

"I'm always here," Jesus finished, digging a pointer finger into Rick's chest, directly where his heart was. A smirk lifted the right side of Paul's mouth.

Rick returned the look before continuing. "I know you would never cheat on me. I don't know why I said it. I guess I thought Lori never would, and then she did and... It's no excuse. I don't understand myself." He hung his head, his teeth grit together with discomfort.

"I know you didn't mean it," Paul assured, though he nodded, accepting the apology. "But thank you. I appreciate it."

"Paul... I... I want you to _know_ I mean it." He raised his gaze so he was looking into his lover's eyes. "I'm going to tell the family about us. They need to know we're together. I _want_ them to know I love you."

He hadn't expected a reaction from the other man. Paul was expressive, but he was skilled in schooling his face in order to hide his feelings when he wanted. But after Rick's words, the happiest of smiles found its way to his lover's mouth. He rushed forward, grabbing Rick's face and smashing their lips together. He pulled away before the kiss could deepen. "That's all that matters, Rick. That you're willing to tell them. You don't have to though."

Rick pulled them back together, deepening the kiss that Jesus had been trying not to. They lingered in that state for several minutes, their tongue tangling together in a familiar dance, their hands mapping each other as if they hadn't in years. When they parted, Paul's cheeks were flushed and Rick's breath was coming out in harsh pants. "I'm going to," he promised, quiet in a conspiratorial way. A devilish smile greeted Paul's grin of delight.

* * *

"And we can work with the Hilltop. Maggie hammered out a deal. We're getting food – eggs, butter, fresh vegetables."

His people, his family, stared up at him as he faced them at the head of the church. Serious faces one and all, each filled with a different set of emotions behind it. Rick knew his family was ready for what he was about to say. Would the Alexandrians agree?

"But they're not just giving it away. These Saviors, they almost killed Sasha, Daryl, and Abraham on the road."

The thought brought bile to the back of his throat, at the idea that Daryl could have been taken from him. That some of his family might have been killed. It was panic inducing how many ways there were for a person to meet their end in the new world. Why did people like the Saviors have to exist? Predators that preyed on others when they should have all united together. It was disgusting.

He forced himself to continue like he hadn't been having such morbid thoughts. "Now, sooner or later, they woulda found us, just like those Wolves did, just like Jesus did." His lover's name brought a whole new wave of emotion he couldn't quite decipher. His insecurities hadn't been completely laid to rest despite their most recent heart to heart. But his love for the other man was strong, making it hard to concentrate on anything else. Rick's blood was thrumming with the knowledge that Paul still cared for him, wasn't willing to end their relationship even though Rick had been so stupid. It made him feel drunk with power, and the feeling seeped into his words as he spoke aloud to the group in the church.

"They woulda killed someone or some of us. And then they would try to own us. And we would try to stop them. But by then, in that kind of fight, low on food, we could lose." Terror was a necessary tactic Rick felt no guilt using. It was a fearful reality that he wholeheartedly believed in, and he wasn't going to sugarcoat it for the Alexandrians. They needed to see that his upcoming proposed course of action was the best one.

"This is the only way to be sure, as sure as we can get, that we win. And we have to win. We do this for the Hilltop, it's how we keep this place. It's how we feed this place."

A few in the audience shifted, the pews groaning under their weight. Were they stirring from his words, ready to fight? Or were they uncomfortable, fidgeting with unease? He knew where he stood on the issue, but he wasn't running a dictatorship. So he continued with, "This needs to be a group decision. If anybody objects, here's your chance to say your piece."

For a moment it seemed like no one would object. Rick's eyes scanned the crowd, looking for any that disagreed with his attack plan. The one person he didn't look at should have been the first. A pew in the back moaned as Morgan stood, and Rick didn't miss the way that Daryl turned around, a look of scorn on his face.

"You're sure we can do it? We can beat 'em?"

His friend's tone wasn't necessarily argumentative. More like he was probing, testing. But Rick couldn't risk others siding with Morgan's passive point of view. Gently, but sternly, he answered with, "What this group has done, what we've learned, what we've become, all of us – yes, I'm sure."

"Then all we have to do is just tell em that." Morgan said it like it was so simple, like it would actually work.

He couldn't stop the slight huff of disbelief that escaped, and chided himself for it. He tried not to let his derision seep into his words. "Well they, they don't compromise."

"This isn't a compromise. It's a choice you give em. It's a way out for them and for us."

"We try and talk to the Saviors, we give up our advantage, our safety." Rick was starting to get irritated, once more couldn't help the way his emotions colored his words. "No, we have to come for them before they come for us. We can't leave them alive."

"Where there's life, there's possibility."

Oh for the love of... "Of them hitting us."

"We're not trapped in this. None of you are trapped in this."

This time, Rick's voice came out softer than he intended. "Morgan, they always come back." Why couldn't he understand why they had to do this?

"Come back when they're dead, too." Morgan's own irritation with the situation was finally showing, and Rick felt that was some sort of win for himself. His friend could see that his argument wasn't gaining any traction.

"Yeah, we'll stop them. We have before."

"I'm not talking about the walkers." Morgan's stare would have been intimidating to a lesser man, but instead Rick felt his internal hackles rise at the challenge.

He needed to continue being democratic though. It wouldn't do to be aggressive and make a decision on his own. "Morgan wants to talk to them first. I think that would be a mistake, but it's not up to me. I'll talk to the people still at home. I'll discuss it with the people on guard now, too, but who else wants to approach the Saviors, talk to them first?"

Aaron stood up, almost immediately. "What happened here, we won't let that happen again." He pointedly looked at Morgan. "I won't."

Morgan nodded, sensing his defeat even then.

Aaron nodded at Rick and sat back down. No one else said anything, but Aaron's words seemed to have resonated with the rest of the group.

"Looks like it's settled. We know exactly what this is. We don't shy from it, we live. We kill them all." Morgan had a look on his face that rubbed Rick the wrong way, and he couldn't help it. He just couldn't. He had to add the jab, even though he didn't want to. "We don't all have to kill. But if people are gonna stay here-" he began to walk out of church as he spoke, "they do have to accept it."

* * *

Evening fell without further incident. Morgan disappeared, probably to go pout, Rick figured. He tried to ignore the niggling guilt that was hunkered down in the back of his mind. It wasn't like he wanted to kill people. He didn't hanker for blood. But when it came to keeping good people safe, came to keeping his _family_ safe, he would do anything. Why was Morgan so against that?

Andy, a Hilltop scout that Jesus only had praise for, was giving the layout of the compound they planned to attack. Daryl, Glenn, and Maggie were also there, giving opinions and options as they poured over the outline. Rick tried to keep his focus on the strategizing, but he couldn't help but bask in the love he felt for the group that surrounded him. From Glenn, the boy (now man) that had saved his life when he could have just as easily let him die, to Maggie, the farm girl that had turned out to be one of the most strong, passionate, and confident women he had ever had the pleasure to interact with, and Daryl, the rough and rumble hillbilly with a soft and gentle heart at the core. How had he been so lucky? So many had been reduced to nothing during the end of the world. And here he had a better life than before.

He had to do everything in his power to keep these people safe. Shaking his head, he willed his mushy thoughts back. He needed his focus on this. His people needed him.

* * *

Finding a walker that looked enough like Gregory to obtain a severed head wasn't actually all that hard. After scavenging, struggling to stay alive, and facing numerous enemies, the task had seemed relatively easy. When Rick had broken the walker's nose to make it look as if there had been a struggle, Andy had made a comment that stuck with Rick. And while he didn't show his pleasure at the words, they mulled over and over in his mind. _'The Saviors are scary but they've got nothing on you'._ That was just fine with Rick, to be honest. He needed to be the biggest and the baddest man out there. He didn't want anyone to mess with them anymore.

* * *

The waiting game for the coming night did little to settle Rick's nerves. He wasn't necessarily nervous about taking on the compound. His people had succeeded during much more perilous ventures. But there was always the chance a stray bullet could fly. A lone walker could sneak up on them amid the melee. The whole facility could explode for all they knew. Rick knew he was being ridiculous with his fears, but he couldn't help it.

If he were being honest, a part of him was nervous about telling his family about his relationship with Jesus. Rick knew they wouldn't shun him. Sexuality seemed such a trivial issue now that the dead roamed amongst the living. But the societal stigmas from before still remained in his mind, and he felt uncertain, wondering if somehow they would find a way to disapprove of his new mate.

Unlike his former Alexandria romance… His tryst with Jessie had been known to his family but not talked about, and Rick hadn't felt that his choice had been well received. It wasn't that she hadn't been a good person. But Jessie had been weak, and her children equally so. From what he had gathered, his family just hadn't seen the connection between them. Rick figured if anything it was his rebound relationship after Lori. His first girlfriend since his wife had died. Jessie hadn't been that bad considering. She had been gentle and kind, and she had loved her children. She was a good woman. Her death still brought him a fair bit of guilt whenever he remembered her soft eyes and secret smiles. But just like his family had figured before he had, he had realized she wasn't the person for him. Perhaps her death had been a blessing in disguise, for several reasons, morbid as that thought was.

He planned to tell the members of his family in shifts, just in case there was a moment of awkwardness. Or if they decided to blow up and disown him. A grim chuckle escaped, and Rick fidgeted with the handle of his Colt. Tonight was Maggie and Glenn – the first of his family to be told. Rick was fairly certain their reaction would be positive, if not outright happy for him. Jesus was an invaluable ally, a compassionate man, and a very skilled fighter. They balanced each other out, he believed. Especially with the way his hard edges were softened by Jesus. And Maggie especially seemed to have a soft spot for the Hilltop man.

Despite the outcome he anticipated, Rick couldn't stop the roiling in his gut.

Rick found the married pair helping each other suit up, Maggie handing a gun to Glenn with a grim but determined expression. Her husband's expression was strained, holding it together far worse than his wife was. Rick felt nagging guilt tiptoe through his mind. Was he asking too much of Glenn?

"Got a minute?" Rick asked, his voice coming out raspier than he intended.

He didn't startle them, even though their moment had appeared to be private. The pair was far too alert to be caught unawares like that. Maggie turned to him, holstering a knife at her hip as she pivoted. A small smile greeted him, and Rick was thankful for it. Glenn too smiled, but the look was so tense Rick doubted its authenticity.

"Sure honey," Maggie said, absently twining her fingers with Glenn's.

He didn't even realize he was running his hand through his hair in his nervous tick until his hand was returning to his side. "Uh… It ain't a big deal. Just thought you should know is all." He went for nonchalant, but he could feel their interest piquing at his words. They knew Rick didn't just speak to fill the silence. Whatever he had to say would be something to pay attention to.

Glenn shared a sidelong gaze with Maggie. "Yeah sure. What is it, Rick?" his friend asked, also playing at indifference. Rick's heart swelled for the two in front of him. They could sense his unease, were trying their darndest to calm him down, while also obviously so very curious. He knew they wouldn't press him though. It almost made it easier to spit it out somehow.

"I just wanted you to know that Jesus and I… Well, Paul and I are together." He chanced a look at them, but their faces had remained impassive. So he clarified with, "As in…dating."

Maggie was the first to react, and her smile was anything but forced. She untangled her fingers from Glenn and approached him, enveloping Rick in an easy hug. "Kinda figured somethin' was up with ya. You've been acting nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs," she whispered, holding him tight. He chuckled at the expression, and returned the hug, seeking the comfort she was so willing to offer.

His eyes had closed as he enjoyed the embrace and he was startled when a hand settled on his shoulder. Rick looked to his right and there stood Glenn, a true smile greeting him when he looked. The tension was still there, but in the face of his admission the easygoing expression that was usually there was back. "Good for you, Rick," he said lowly, squeezing his shoulder as he said it.

"How'd it happen?" Maggie asked as she finally released him from her embrace. A mischievous grin lit up her face, and when she shared a look with Glenn it was full of conspiratorial glee. Rick tried to ignore the implications of that.

His hand was back in his hair again. "Well uh… He approached me about it. Just sorta happened." He could feel his face heating up. It wasn't that he was embarrassed of their relationship, but it felt so odd to be interrogated about it.

"So Jesus initiated," she asked, but it didn't truly seem like there was a question behind it.

"Well Rick could have been putting out vibes," Glenn groused, crossing his arms. The anger was more of a pout than any temper behind the words.

His face could not possibly be getting any more red. "We had a conversation or two and it just kind of got brought up," Rick blurted. "I mean, I never knew that I could be with a man until…" Realizing his almost slip-up, Rick stopped himself. "Well it just had never crossed my mind before Paul and I talked. He uh…opened up my horizons I guess."

Maggie's eyes glittered dangerously. "You sure it was _just_ Paul that-" but she got cut off with an 'oomph' when Glenn elbowed her somewhat forcefully in the side.

"Maggie," he hissed, eyes wide.

Rick glanced between the two, not sure whether he was more mortified by Maggie's gleeful smile or Glenn's humiliated grimace. "I just thought you should know," he finished lamely. "I haven't told anyone else yet," he added.

In an instant, all of Maggie's joking was gone. She was serious once more, and her hand leapt out to grab onto his. "Thank you for telling us, Rick. We really are happy for you. He's a great man." Glenn nodded, obviously of the same opinion.

Eyes glistening, Rick felt his heart begin to beat faster with the contentment. This was unconditional love. They were happy for him and only wished him the best. Why hadn't he told them sooner?

"Thank you," he murmured, surreptitiously wiping at his eyes.

"So uh…when are you going to tell Daryl?" Glenn asked after a moment. The younger man shuffled his feet, clearly uncomfortable with the question.

Rick felt confusion flare up. Why Daryl specifically? And right after the misunderstanding came nausea. Oh Daryl. How could he ever tell Daryl? "I don't know," he admitted slowly, uncertain what Glenn was getting at. "Not sure how well he'll take it."

Maggie was staring at Glenn with an annoyed pout, but at Rick's words she turned to the lawman. "Don't worry about it at all. He'll take it just fine. Tell him. You'll feel better when you do."

He seriously doubted that, but he couldn't say that to her. So instead, he answered with a lame, "I hope so."


End file.
